Time
by Clarenova
Summary: Glorfindel: Elf reborn and elf plauged. Ren: Young human, not really old enough. What with Silmarilli reappearing after an Age and one Oath of Feanor reawakened, how will Arda cope? Even the Valar don't know. Huge AU, humour, no romance, has plot.
1. A Complication

::Time:: 

Disclaimer: I do not own it, J R R Tolkien does. 

A/N: This story will be based on me and my classmates dropping-into-Middle-Earth fic in DIFFERENT time zone : The second age of the sun. Just before the Fall of Gondolin, at least. In the Silmarillion like period. Please excuse my incorrigible Elvish. Don't worry. No romance whatsoever. Pure humor. Heh. Revision 3. 

* 

Ren shook her head in a blurry daze. She looked up from her position on the unusually cold floor where she had been lying. One second, she had been in her room, happily reading, the next... The sky looked different. There were no clouds, and the azure blue colour was so perfect it seemed almost glaring in comparison the the cloudly day that it had been a minute ago. The floor seemed rather cold compared to her bed, and it was made of... rock? Realization hit her rather suddenly. 

Sitting up, Ren took brief a look around her and promptly fell straight back down again. Everything suddenly seemd surreal. 

_I did not see what I thought I saw. Not here. Not now._

Ren closed her eyes, taking a _deep_ breath and thought things through as thoroughly as possible in her rather insane position. She was only twelve. She did not deserve this torture that she was going through. 

_Fact one: I have half of my class behind me here in this place. Fact two: Definitely not where I'm supposed to be. Fact Three: It's cold. Too cold. I live near the equator, not the north pole. Observation One: Probably not on earth anymore. Observation two: Others should be waking up._

Ren reopened her eyes, and saw something blonde staring in her face. She nearly shouted out in alarm. Scrambling up into a proper sitting position at long last, she took a good look at the person who was regarding her curiously from his position. The person had long blonde hair, shorter than hers, a bow and a long, _sharp_ sword, and was kneeling down and looking at her curiously. 

_Blonde? There are _no_ blondes on my side of earth. At least not long haired blondes._

'Heri...?' 

Ren did not move. She froze at the voice, which seemed more musical than anything she had heard beforehand. All hopes of the place being Earth flew out the back window and shrivelled up in the ditch. 

_Heri is not English. Heri? Wasn't that? Quenya? For "lady"?_

On the other side of Ren's brain, namely the sane one: 

_You've read too much Tolkien, you dolt. Too much Elvish. Quenya is NOT spoken on earth._

_We. On. Earth. In. First. Place?_

The blonde creature in front of her broke the silence with a sentence that most definitely was not English, which only served to confirm Ren's suspicions and fears. 

'Le..?' [You..?] 

_Think Elvish. Quenya. Don't panic, this is only a dream, a nightmare. You'll wake up soon._

Stumbling, Ren racked her brains for her extremely faulty Elvish memory. Mad, some called her when they found out that she liked the language, but she really liked the series. Same went for the Hobbit and the Silmarillion. She slowly responded to his unspoken question, though trying not to answer it. 

_Evade, Ren, evade!_

'Mane na sinome?' [Where is this place?] 

_Please allow me to get out of this alive..._

The Elf, as the human concluded he was, looked at her for a while, his face slightly puzzled at her extremely faulty Elvish before understanding. A look of enlightenment came over his face as he stood, pulling her up in the process. 

'Sinome? Si na Gondolin.' [This place? This is Gondolin.] 

_Gondolin? That's from the Silmarillion. Fall of Gondolin. Balrog. Eep. Blonde?_

Ren looked behind her. Besides her friends that were rousing, she saw the gates. The famed Gates of the Hidden Rock. The world was crashing, burning and altogether melting into a small puddle of goo. 

_Gates? Blonde? Elf? Gondolin? Middle Earth?_

Suddenly, everything seemed to click in place. 

_Middle Earth. With class. In Gondolin. After coming of Elves. Elf= Glorfindel, most likely. Me= Only Elvish speaker._

From behind her, a drowsy Inez shook Ren's shoulder roughly. The girl was looking extremely confused and lost as she should have been. 

'Where on Earth are we?!' 

Ren tried to get her tongue to cooperate with her. 

'Tell the others to be quite. It's Glorfindel.' 

The elf spoke again, much to Ren's alarm. 

'Maneya nin, a nin mellyn tulya?' 

Ren panicked again, her brain trying to process the Elvish. 

_Mane= Where. Ya=Which. Nin=You, A=and, mellyn=friends, wait. Isn't that Sindarin? Tulya=come. Put it together? Where, which, you, and, friends, came? Where did you and your friends come from._

Ren panicked slightly, afraid that she had misinterpreted the elf's question and answer as a complete fool, or that the elf would come to the conclusion that she was a raving lunatic and stick her through with one of those prickly looking arrows.She replied extremely tentatively. By now most of her friends had recovered and were looking in on her conversation in interest. 

'Nin? Ah... Vahaiya.' [Me? Ah.. Far away.] 

The elf cocked an unbelieving eyebrow at her. The bow and sword were not helping either. His original concern had faded away, and disbelief and distrust, even for a tiny (compared to him, at least) girl was not spared. His home was supposed to be _hidden_, and the elves did not invite a boatload of humans into their home during a warring period for no reason. 

'Vahaiya? Le áva tulya sina luume.' [Far away? You do not come [from] this time.] 

Ren smiled weakly, resisting the urge to back away from that dangerous looking eyebrow, realizing that jeans and a tee shirt were not exactly the most Middle-Earth-ish attire to be found around. 

'Eh... Le ávaista... Nin... Uh...' [Eh... You do not understand. I... Uh...] 

The elf looked at her shrewdly, disbelief now very evident. From behind, one of her friends shouted. 

'What is going on?' 

Turning around sharply, Ren hissed back, venom spitting from her lips. 

'Not now! I'm in serious trouble here, so shut up!' 

The elf shot her a sharp look and rattled off a long, quick sentence of Elvish. Ren had trouble keeping up. 

'Ya quentet na adan-lambe, nin ista. Nan menna are, nin u lasto... yelwa, feuya nostale lambe.' [What you speak [of] is the tounge of man. But until (to)day, I have not heard [such]... loathsome, disgust[ing] tounge.] 

Ren smiled faintly, promptly elbowing Inez and telling her and Shuwen to shut the others up. Now, Ren had no choice but to mix Sindarin and Quenya, due to her limited [and lousy] vocabulary. And gammar? What was Gammar? 

'Ahh... nin gwaith lambe na uve sinome Westron a elda, quendi lambe.' [Ahh... My people's tounge is not like that of this places' Westron [common tounge, english], and the elvish tounge.] 

'En u Elda, quendi?' [There are no elves?] 

'U.' [No.] 

'Le istama Quenya a Sindarin. Eldarinwa...?' [[Yet] You have knowledge of Quenya and Sindarin. Elvish...?' 

_I was hoping he would overlook that._

'Ahh... Nin... Nin naa, uh..., istima Eldarinwa, e parma.' [Ahh... I... I am, uh..., learned in Elvish, from books.] 

Well, the internet and other resources that she used were all books, but still... 

'Parma? En u Elda, nan en na parma Eldarinwa?' [Books? There are no Elves, but there are books of Elvish?] 

'Heru, le u-ista, a nin u-noa an nayra heera an le.' [Lord, you do not understand, and I have no idea on how to tell [explain] to you.] 

'A?' [Oh?] 

'Heru, Im u-hanna Eldarinwa, nin mellyn u-hanya Eldarinwa. Va le quente Westron? Nin ' [Lord, I am not gift[ed] in Elvish, my friends do not speak Elvish [at all]. Do you speak Westron?] 

The blonde elf looked at her sceptically, then peered at her half scared, half curious, half infuriated, half lost company of elven behind her. Ren crossed her fingers behind her back and prayed. 

'Nin quente Westron? Nin va. Le merne quente Westron?' [[Do] I speak Westron? I do. You desire to talk [in] Westron?] 

Ren nodded, not knowing the Elvish word for yes. The blonde elf probably thought her grammer was atrocious, and her tongues even worse. Chinese was bad enough. The elf made a quick switch to English, to her great relief. 

'What brings you here to the Hidden Rock? Who lead you here? No mortal can possibly cross our boundaries, nor any elf, without guidance. One so young as yourself, along with your friends, should not be anywhere near here.' 

Ren disliked being called 'one so young as yourself'. Sure, she was young, but she was not stupid. Then again, she probably seemed idiotic compared to this elf. 

Mental note: Kick elf at next possible opening. 

'My knowledge of how my friends and I got to Gondolin is not more than yours, maybe less. I was in my home, in a place nowhere near Middle Earth nor Valinor, if you must know, reading, and before I knew it, I appeared here.' 

'And what is your name, young one?' 

'It depends.' 

The elf nearly laughed. Ren scowled at him. 

'How can one's name depend?' 

'My Elvish name, my English name, or one of my nicknames? There are many.' 

'Your Elvish name would be nice. You are in Elvish territory, after all.' 

'Sirithbrethil, I suppose, if my books are true. And if this is truly Gondolin, and you are the guard, I suppose that you shall be Glorfindel of the house of the Golden Flower.' 

Glorfindel looked surprised at her knowledge. Ren could not blame him. This one's personality and fame obviously did not precede him. 

'You speak true. Come, rouse your friends. I cannot leave you here alone, even though we are inside Elvish territory.' 

Ren nodded. Quickly, she turned to have a rushed, extremely confusing conversation with her friends. Kemin was the first to let out an outburst, as she expected. 

'Where the hell are we?' 

Though harsh, it expressed the question that all the others asked. The looked at her expectantly. Ren gulped. 

'I have no idea how to explain this, but we seemed to have landed in Middle Earth.' 

Inez spoke up. 

'This wasn't in the movie, y'know. I don't recognize it.' 

'I know. I watched the movie six times already.' 

Shuwen piped up. 

'Wasn't in the books either.' 

'I know. That only because none of you here have read the Silmarillon. You know, Gondolin...? Glorfindel...?' 

Shuwen recognized that name. 

'Glorfindel? That was the flight to the ford. The Third Age.' 

'Well, if memory recalls, this isn't the third age. By far. This is most likely the age of Melkor, before Sauron's first rising to power. Of course, Sauron is here, but as a Maia in the times when Vala still walked, he is not powerful enough.' 

Eleven blank faces stared back at her. Ren sighed. 

'Never mind. Here's the low-down: We are in Middle Earth, for some reason I cannot fathom, we landed before the original Lord of the Rings timing, we are in a place called Gondolin, which is meant to be hidden, and we are being led away, most probably to Turgon, the King. The people here are Elves, and so you have no reason to fear, unless one of you go and do something stupid. If you can, help me out, but if I should start to converse in Elvish... Shut the hell up, for my sake.' 

The others nodded, using the classroom innocence whereby you understand by not understanding. 

'Questions?' 

Sam did. 

'How are we going to get out of here?' 

Ren shrugged. 

'I have no idea.'   
  



	2. Even More Complications

::Time: Part Two:: 

Disclaimer: Fine. Not Mine. Happy? No? The exit's back there. 

A/n: Revised edition 3. 

* 

Kemin looked quite hysterical, overreacting to the fact that Ren did not have the key to the "Let's Go Home" door. 

'You mean there's no way we can get out of this?' 

Ren shrugged nonchalantly as possibly, trying to stay as aloof as possible so as not to scare her friends more than was necessary. 

'Not that I know of. I'm not sure why we are here in the first place. I'll try and grope around though. I've got to find us a way out of this mess. One more thing, if we are being brought to the king, I implore you guys, please, keep swearing, cursing, basically bad words, out of this. I do not wish to get us killed.' 

The rest nodded dumbly, what else was there to do? Inez shook her head. 

'We're in a mess, yeah?' 

'Yep. This most definitely cannot get any worse.' 

As if on cue, there was a dull thud from behind the travelling company. Ren whirled around, then quickly turned pale on the sight that she saw. _It could always get worse._

'Not good.' 

Teachers. Of all the things that could have happened to her, teachers! Why!? Ren was quite sure the world was intent on ruining her life, or Eru or Manwe or whoever on Arda that was getting a good laugh right now. 

'Take that back. It most definitely can get worse.' 

Glorfindel turned around and demanded an explanation, looking rather angry at the fact that yet _another_ package had dropped in on him. After a rather flustered Ren had got over the basics that her teachers had been pulled in the mess, the elf promptly went over to the fallen adults and tried to rouse them. The two Sam's, Joey, Eve, and a few others were also there, trying to rouse them. The rest just stood, shocked still. After the teachers had managed to be awoken, Ren faded into the background and let the others tell the tale to the very unbelieving mentors of hers. Then disaster nearly stroke, when Glorfindel foolishly tried to converse with them. First in Elvish. Ren scrambled forward, but a little too late. 

'Le na mellyn a Sirithbrethil?' 

_What did I tell him about Humans from MY time not speaking ELVISH? Does he listen? And now, he's got ME into major trouble. At least if we had landed in a more FAMILIAR time period my friends might have been able to HELP me in this... Blondes!_. 

Ren hastily went up to cover for the teachers, who were all staring at the elf in puzzlement and disbelief. She added things in Elvish which she would never have said in front of the teachers in English or Chinese, her two, erm, normal, tongues. 

'Glorfindel, si na nin, ah, horoth hanna hos...? Teachers in the Westron. How do you say that in Elvish? Back to the point. Ah, lin uya quente Quenya a Sindarin, Eldarinwa. Er lin quente Westron. Uume quente o lin mi Eldarinwa, lin u hanya le, a nin ataltane amarth!' [Glorfindel, these are my, ah, old(er) wise folk? Teachers in Westron. How do you say that in Elvish? Back to the point. Ah, they do not speak Quenya and Sindarin, Elvish. But they speak Westron. Do not speak with them with Elvish, they don't understand you, and I would fall into my doom!] 

Glorfindel laughed at her last comment, but a hiss from her made him realize she was completely serious and thus shut his mouth, much to her relief. The elf finally seemed to get the point, at any rate. Inez elbowed her sharply to get her attention. 

'Fo, what on EARTH are we going to do?' 

'No idea Nez, no idea. Though I wish Rose were here. I know of a certain formation of rocks where we could push her off and get away scott free.' 

They were referring to their extremely fat and obese netball coach, Rose. Inez sniggered, as did Shu Wen, who was eavesdropping. 

'Back to topic, could I trust you guys to keep the teachers occupied. Zao [Ch. teacher] especially. I can't stand her. Ugh. Miss Lim is SO going to behead me, along with all the other teachers, so I'm pleading with you to keep them away from me, in case the king here, Turgon, should wish to talk to them and they say he's from a book. Don't want to stick around to see his wrath. Could you tell them to let me do the talking, please? I need to sort things out instead of mess things up.' 

The two nodded. They knew that the teachers were going to nose around quite a bit, and therefore keeping them out of the way was going to be a group effort. Ren smiled weakly again. 

'Right. Got to go keep Glor in check before he gets ME killed now...' 

Glorfindel was questioning, or should I say, being questioned, by the teachers. Ren broke out in cold sweat, but took a deep breath and stepped into the fray. Miss Lim immediately asked the most obvious question. 

'Po Linn, where are we?' 

Ren winced. She responded in Chinese so as to save herself from Glorfindel's wrath. 

[Twiddle-dee... Insert basic chinese explanation here.] 

Basically, for all those who simply cannot understand Ren's completely messed up chinese skills: Miss Lim, I can only tell you that we are in a book. Why, I do not know. I only want you and the teachers not to talk overly much with these people, or I will have no idea how to talk to their king. Could you please not tell them they are from a book? This way, I may be able to save us. Could you let me talk to their king? I know their speech and you do not...'' 

Miss Lim, thankfully, answered favourably, along with the rest of the teachers, allowing her to go ahead and do all the talking. Thanking her profusely, she managed to get Inez, Shu Wen and the rest to fill them in further, in chinese so as to save their skins, and went back to the elf. She was getting too tired to switching between English and Chinese then Elvish. Sighing, she went over to Glorfindel 

'Glorfindel, mammen na le wanya an nin mellyn a im?' [Glorfindel, to where are you going to [bring] my friends and me? 

'Turgon, nessaer, erain o Gondolin.' [Turgon, young one, king of Gondolin.] 

Ren disliked the nickname, but squeaked when she heard the answer, though she was not expecting less. 

'Turgon! Glorfindel, anim horother u-ista le Eldarinwa... Lin u quente an Turgon...' [Turgon! Glorfindel, my older ones do not understand Elvish... They cannot speak to Turgon...] 

The elf turned sharply around and looked at her. 

'Man quente an nin erain?' [Who [will] speak to my king?] 

Ren gulped. This was not going to be nice. Bloodshed would result, most likely. Even more likely, hers. Ren squeaked out the answer, knowing that the reaction would not be favourable. 

'Im.' [I]   
  
  



	3. Unexplained Actions

::WHATTT?::   
Disclaimer: So sue me. 

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates, but I'm busy with many, many other fics right now... ^_^ 

* 

Glorfindel looked at her incredulously for a moment, refusing to believe that the mortal girl standing in front of him, who was twenty centimetres shorter than him was saying that she would speak to his king. Ren smiled weakly up to the so-much-taller elf, crossing her fingers behind her back and hoping that she would get out of this affair alive. Well, at least in one piece. With the heart still beating. And organs still functioning... More or less. 

'LE?! Le? Quente an nin ERAIN?' [YOU?! You? Speak to my KING?] 

Nodding frustratedly, Ren finally let her temper go. Inez winced from behind her, knowing what was coming, feeling sorry for the elf lord that was going to experience something best left unsaid. 

'IM! IM LE TUG ORCO! MAN CARE LE KENA SINOME NOLE ELDARINWA? IM!' [ME! ME YOU FAT ORC! WHO DO YOU SEE HERE HAS KNOWLEDGE OF ELVISH? ME!] 

Glorfindel looked rather alarmed at the young mortal that was screaming at him, the immortal Elf, calling him a fat orc of all things. Shu Wen sniggered in the background, knowing the very basics of Elvish cursing, having survived certain... occasions where screaming at someone who did not know what you were talking about was very useful. Glorfindel simply looked at Ren impassively, while the teachers looked alarmed at her outburst. Ren threw her hands into the air, muttering to herself. 

'Ulundo Malkaruako Eldar man u-istima Eldarinwa a lambe o edain!' [Vile, evil Balrog Elf who does not understand Elvish or the tongue of man!] 

Glorfindel looked sharply over to her and spoke in English, reprimanding her. 

'Do not speak of such evil here! The days are not safe, not with Melkor around. Much that is hidden from us we will never know. 

Muttering under her breath as they moved off, Ren said, 

'But I do.' 

* 

AN HOUR LATER 

* 

'Why is this taking so long?' 

'Why is it so cold?' 

'Why can't we just go back?' 

'Where are we going?' 

'What's happening?' 

'Where are we? 

'Whe-' 

'WILL YOU PEOPLE JUST SHUT UP!' 

Ren stared angrily at the horde of complaining students and dazzled looking teachers. They were only their way, and had passed the main gates, and only had one more to go. Of course, the rest did not know that. Not that they needed to. Ren cut off her death glare and continued plodding forward. Glorfindel looked over at her. 

'Your people are rather vulgar, are they not?' 

'Dina.' [Shut up.] 

The elf only laughed slightly. Growling softly, Ren put on a dangerous tone. 

'Glorfindel, le u-istima tanya Im a nin mellin quente limbe lambe. Minque, nin noa. Le u-saira iire mine o me uva quete le mi minque.' [Glorfindel, you do not know that me and my friends speak many languages? 11, I think. You do not know when one of us will speak of you in one.] 

The elf did not comment. They soon reached the final outer gate to the city.   
  
  



	4. Explanations

::Clash of Languages:: 

Disclaimer: Look behind you. 

A/N: Sorry for the very bad chapter upload yesterday, but as those who read my other fic know, I have networking/internet/revamping problems and have only jusy retained my old story editing programme today. Things should return to normal soon. I hope. 

* 

Glorfindel was going to have to do a high amount of debating and pleading on his part to get them inside, and thus now the odd company was waiting for affirmation for entrance, be it that the blond haired elf was captain of the Golden Flower or no. The result was a massive amount of panicky boredom from all around. A few students were conversing with the teachers, trying, and failing, to make sense of their situation, while others were playing some classic games for the heck of it. Others were looking around, astounded and still in shock, while some others were trying to adapt to the sitution. Inez looked slightly panicky when she realized that Mandy had a copy of Today Newspaper with her, and started searching the paper for pictures of Angelina Jolie, of which Shu Wen was desperately trying to obtain to rip up for the fun of things. Inez, being their local Angelina Jolie worshipper and Shu Wen being the local Angelina-ripper. It was a school thing. In normal situations, Ren would have been on top of them already, but she had to keep Glorfindel and the rest satisfied. A shriek and the sounds of i>NononNO! NO! Give it baack!/i> clearly portrayed the fact that Angelina Jolie had been found and ripped. Suddenly, a sudden unsettling topic came up from Evelyn.BR>BR> 

'Po?' 

Ren looked over at her, broken out of her observation of Glorfindel's expression as he watched Inez and Shu Wen battle out for a few scraps of paper. 

'What?' 

'Who's this elf?' 

Evelyn looked pointedly over to Glorfindel, who had thankfully still been looking away. Ren paled visibly. BR>BR> 

*Breath. Remember to breath. Oxygen is good. Being dead is not. Talking to Turgon is good. Dying at Turgon's gate is not* 

Throat parched, Ren recalled a conversation once held in school about Glorfindel. Glorfindel, at that point in time, was her favourite elf. Ren was not too sure of awarding him the privilige then. 

** 

'Glorfindel's _STILL_ the best!' Ren declared. No one was going to contest against her for that. 

'No! Gandy is better!' 

Inez stood in defence for her favourite character. His name was the easiest to pronounce. 

'Glorfy!' 

Pet names could be interesting. 

'Gandy!' 

'Who's Glorfindel...?' Evelyn hit the killer question. 

'A character from the book.' 

'Oh! Is it that dark haired guy who needs a bath?' 

Time stood still. Ren rammed her head onto her desk, weeping. 

'NOT ARAGORN YOU IDIOT!' 

'Or was it that short hungry guy?' 

'Pi-pp-pPippin?!' 

Ren was too shocked to speak. 

'Er... The goblin?' 

'WHAT? YOU THINK GLORFINDEL'S A GOBLIN?' 

'Or was it that short haired guy that turned bad...' 

Bam. 

Ren's head hit the table. A whimper could be heard. 

'That was Boromir.' 

'Arwen?' 

'CURSE YOU ARWEN! YOU TOOK GLORFINDEL'S PART! AND HIS HORSE!' 

'Oh. Was it that freaky elf witch?' 

'WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!' 

Ren let out a wail, unable to keep it in any longer while Diana, Shu Wen and Inez howled in laughted beside her. 

'One. Glorfindel is a GUY. Two. Galadriel is NOT evil. Three. NO! ' 

'Her husband...?' 

'That was Celeborn.' 

'Oh! Then was it that blond haired guy...?' 

Ren lifted her head up from the table, hope glimmering in her eyes... 

'...with the arrows?' 

Thunk. 

'Legolas Greenleaf.' 

'The one with the Eye and the metal mask?' 

'NOOOOOOOOOOO! NOT SAURON! NOT SAURON!' 

'The prune faced fellow...?' 

'Not *whimper* Elrond.' 

'The grey bearded guy?' 

Inez whapped Evelyn. 

'That's Gandalf.' 

'Oh! The short, bearded fellow?' 

'TAKE THAT BACK! GLORFINDEL IS NOT A STUPID DWARF!' 

Her friends who knew who Glorfindel was were crying in laughter. 

'Eerr? The crows...?' 

'NOT the crebain.' 

Ren was going crazy. Her favourite elf had been called a goblin, a crow, Elrond, Gandalf, Aragorn, Boromir, GALADRIEL, Celeborn, Legolas, SAURON... Shu Wen and the rest began shaking with laughter, rocking back and forth in their chairs while their subsitute teacher looked at them as if they were mad. 

'That... orc?' 

'Glorfindel is NOT an orc.' 

'Or was it that evil white haired guy?' 

'Ai Elbereth! Of all the people, NOT Saruman!' 

'Then who was he?' 

'He was not in the movie.' 

'Ooooooooooooooh! Then I don't know him.' 

'He's an elf. A Good, Pure, Not Evil, Male, Elf, Not Crebain, Not Istari, Not Valar, Not Maia, Not Human elf.' 

The rest's laughter drowned out her whimpers. 

** 

Speaking in a hoarse whisper to Evelyn, Ren spoke back. 

'Glorfindel. You know. The one you thought was a goblin. And a dwarf. And a crow. And Gandalf. And Saruman. And Sauron. And Celeborn. And Legolas. And Galadriel. And Boromir. And Aragorn. And that... _Arwen_, among others.' 

'Ohh! Oooooooooh! _Him._' 

Most unfortunately, Ren's voice was not low enough for Glorfindel to let it go undetected. Elf hearing was a scary thing. Glorfindel paled at the conversation, then glared at Ren worth to kill. The human edged slowly away. 

'For the sake of your neck, _nessaer_, please say I heard your conversation wrongly, or that the Glorfindel that you were referring to was one other than myself.' 

Ren edged slowly away from the fuming elf-lord, who looked ready to draw blade and murder her. The two began rapidly conversing in Elvish again. Inez and Shu Wen abandoned the newspaper and Angelina Jolie's by then mutated face and leant over to Evelyn and asked what had happened. Evelyn shrugged and replyed nonchalently. 

'I asked her who this elf was.' 

'Oh. _Oh._ Oh dear. Oh no.' 

'Glorfindel... Er... Nin mellon toa kaar. Uma lasto he.' [Glorfindel... Er... My friend has a woollen head. Do not listen to her.] 

Growling softly, he spoke back. 

'Nin u-lasto he, nessaer. Nin lasta _le_. [I was not listening to her. I was listening to _you_.] 

'Nin mellin... u-ista le, nan im ya. Aithos u-saira avanin. Aithos u-far istama o nin ilya le.' [My friends... do not know you, but I do. They will not understand without me. They will not understand enough of you from me.'] 

Staring shrewdly at her, he responded. 

'Ya aniron le nin?' [What wish you of me?'] 

Grinning at the elf lord, she pipped up innocently. 

'Aniron ai an istama o le... Ya im an daro ai?' [They wish to know more of you... Who am I to stop them?'] 

'Le aniron nin quente in anim?' [You want me to speak of myself?] 

'Han tua nin, a tua le.' [It would help and, and help you.] 

Glorfindel glared at her, then sighed in resignation. Ren signalled for the rest and the teachers to gather around, and the elf began his tale. 

'I am Glorfindel, of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin, servant to the King and my lord, Turgon. I know not of whence you people have come from, and I doubt that you know either. You are currently in Middle-Earth, at the outer gate of Gondolin, an Elven city known to few or none save those inside now, therefore the need for such secrecy and security in these troubled times. Melkor, the dark lord, is at large, and the sons of Feanor, creator of three maginificent jewels called the silmarils, are out for revenge. Perhaps I should start at the beginning. Feanor, on of us elves, created three jewels called the silmarils, of which Melkor robbed from him. He, and his sons, swore an oath to the Valar to reclaim the silmarils, thus bringing a curse upon them all, which has led to the kinslaying between us, and much strife that now most likely can never be undone. How you came to be here, or why, I do not know.' 

Understanding slowly began to dawn upon the others, and while Ren sat there, bored to Mando's halls, the rest questioned the elf lord, who was glaring daggers at the nonchalent Ren various times throughout his interrogation. Finally, after all had been cleared up, the students began to converse among themselves. Ren joined Shu Wen and Inez, resulting in the Clashes of The Languages. (All here who speak Spanish, please for give me. Blame Inez.) 

'Deseo matar!' [I want to kill!] 

'You're not the only one, I'll grant you.' 

'Snarker.' 

'What are we going to do? I'm bored to death!'BR>BR> 

'Jing kang kor.' [Basically meaning not good, or a not good situation, I THINK. Hokkien/Teo Chew/Cantonese/whatever chinese dialect I just wrote is not my forte, as you can see.] 

'You got that right. This is what you get when you plonk a couple of kiasi students and kiasu elves and a few unknowing teachers together.' [Kiasi- Afraid to die. Kiasu- Afraid to loose.] 

'Cruse f cardiaque. Chemin au douleur desastre. Moi cerveau ne fonctionne pas' [Pardon my french. Basically : Heart attack. Path to pain, disaster. My brain is not working.] 

'Sine qua non disaster!' [An indispensable condition for disaster.] 

'Somos muertos muerta.' [We are dead.] 


	5. Perfection

::Time:: 

Disclaimer: Zzzzzzzzzz... 

A/N: Thanks for the constructive criticism! I'm just a 12 yr. old self taught Elvish speaker, so pardon me if my language is less than satisfactory. Thanks anyways! =) Revision: STUPID! Melian my foot. I meant Idril. THANK YOU FOR POINTING THAT OUT!!! I owe you! 

* 

Glorfindel was having a _bad_ day. And that was most probably putting things lightly. He stood by the gate, quarrelling with Ecthelion, who was on the _other_ side of the gate. Ren could do a rough translation that he was going along the lines of '_Let me in or I'll chop your head off when I do get in_' or something like that. Ecthelion then asked who they, being Ren and her friends, were. Glorfindel turned to her. 

'What is your Elvish name, again?' 

Ren gave it a moments thought. She decided to give her _real_ name's Elvish name this time. She doubted Glorfindel would notice. 

'Sirithbrethil.' 

Glorfindel looked at her oddly. 

'I have more than one. Do not ask.' 

Glorfindel still looked at her oddly. 

'As for the fact that the name means flowing birch, do not push things.' 

Glorfindel turned back to Ecthelion. The guard pointed to Ren and asked who she was. 

'Sirithbrethil.' 

Ecthelion raised an eyebrow, then pointed to Shu Wen. 

'Adan.' [Human] 

Then Inez. 

'Adan.' [Human] 

Then Sam... 

'Adan.' [Human] 

Then the teachers... 

'EDAIN!' [Humans] 

Ecthelion may have been starting to doubt the sanity of his friend. Glorfindel's teeth-ground answers were for reason, though. Behind him, slightly out of view of Ecthelion, was a group of humans that were solely dedicated to making his life difficult. Ren was lazily tossing stones about him, scoring numerous hits onto his head. After a few more minutes, Ecthelion _finally _agreed to let them in, and left saying that he would get the gate guard to open the gates for them. The minute he had gone, Glorfindel launched himself onto Ren. The human took flight with all speed, being well versed in running away. 

'Daro! _DARO! _Dara le púrëa quáco rauco!' [Stop! _Stop! _Stop you discoloured crow of an hostile creature! (Don't ask how I came up with this, I don't know myself..)] 

Glorfindel had to forcefully stop himself from drawing bow and shooting the insolent human to death. A minute or so later, Ecthelion had the gates open. Glorfindel took great delight in grabbing the human by her collar and marching her up in front of him. Up they went, through winding stairways before coming to a sort of landing. Moving forward, they got the first glimpse of the city. Rolling hills, fields bejewelled with blossoms of small elanor, tall trees in shaded copses and delicate structures that melded into white buildings with fair lamps that glinted like gems all faded into a brilliant picture of the Elven city of Gondolin. Glorfindel did not let it last, shoving her forward again. Ren scowled and made note to step deliberately on the elf lord's foot as she went. Her friends and teachers trailed slowly behind, herded by the less annoyed Ecthelion. Up and up then walk and walk... Then walk... and walk... At last they came to a large castle, though it would not seem so with its graceful turrets of silver and white, spiralling amidst tall towers that grew from the main structure that weaved and interconnected together like writhing tree branches. The palace of Turgon, king of Gondolin. Ren gulped. Glorfindel grinned. Everyone else oooohhhed and ahhhed. 

* 

Ren was _not_ in a good mood, nor a giving one. The young human had evidently refused to kneel in front of Turgon, thus sat. Idril was smiling, though, and that gave her a bit of assurance that she would not be thrown into the snake pit. Glorfindel, however, was glaring at her with an affronted look on his face. Muttering softly but fiercely, he gave her a hard nudge in the ribs as he bent down to ask whether she had any weapons on her. 

'_What on Arda are you doing? Kneel, for Elbereth's sake!'_

_'_Bite me.' 

Glorfindel glared at her again, before asking through gritted teeth. 

'Do you have any sharp objects that could deal out injury on you?' 

Ren shrugged and searched her pocket. 

'Lesse... Penknife one...' 

She tossed out a battered blue penknife. 

'Penknife 2, 3 and 4....' 

She tossed out three more penknives... 

'And the broken metal bits of a floppy disk. (Don't ask)' 

Glorfindel, fuming mad, carried off the messy pile on the floor. Turgon looked torn between anger of her insubordination and humour at the telling off of his captain. He addressed the human and her friends, who were behind her, and her teachers, who were behind her friends who were behind her. Right. 

* 

A/N: AND I CLIFFHANG IT! But seriously, I've got to think about the Elvish and I don't have time now... 


	6. Turgon's Halls

::Turgon, Glorfindel, and Ren's very bad day:: 

A/N: I apologize for any misspellings due to my lack of reference here. And I will translate the English to Elvish _later. _This chapter will have to be short due to the fact that I have a major exam tomorrow. 

* 

Ren sat on the floor. It was unnervingly cold. Her head was swimming, trying to remember and utilize every legible piece of Quenya and every detail she could remember of Gondolin. She was well aware of the soft conversation of the Elves to her teachers and friends behind her, whom were all sounding more and more outraged as the moments went by, whilst Glorfindel sat below Turgon's high seat, fixing Ren with a stare that would have caused the Helcaraxe to melt. Turgon wore a mask of neutral aloofness, whereas Idril sat with Tuor by her side, both looking highly amused. Ren felt nauseous in return. After Glorfindel had filled Turgon in on what little he knew of Ren's strange company, Turgon cleared his throat, and the chatter soon ceased. His powerful voice boomed through the hall. 

'Hail, strangers from afar, to Gondolin.' 

The silence that followed rang loudly in Ren's ears, although that did not make any sense at all. She gulped. Turgon continued. 

'Long has my city been hidden from the eyes of evil and of Melkor, and few mortals have passed our gates and glimpsed our houses. Speak, now, and say what you will.' 

A eyebrow was raised in Ren's direction. 

_This is not good.___

Nervously, Ren began. 

'Turgon King, I fear that the presence of my friends and myself is unexplainable, by both me or by them. Our appearance here is as much a mystery to us as it is to you.' 

Turgon's voice held doubt. 

'So you, and your friends, come, uninvited, to my city, which is known to none and uncharted in all maps save for those of imagination?' 

Ren nodded. 

'And what knowledge have you of my city?' 

_Why do they always ask all the hard questions?___

Softly, Ren answered, giving Diana behind her a fleeting glance. The two of them were the only ones in company who had read the _Silmarillion_ and knew the outcome of the city. 

'Much I know, lord, but nothing I can say.' 

This seemed anger Turgon and confuse nearly everyone else and scare Ren half to Mandos. 

'What mean you?' 

'I cannot say, lord. Whatever I know of your city is nothing that you would wish to know. Beyond that, I will only say that I have basic knowledge of your city and your houses, and that it would be wise for you to heed Tuor's words when he gave you counsel.' 

Turgon sighed, remembering Tuor's words of warning of long ago. 

'These days are hard and dangerous times. Melkor growled bold, and the nights are darker than they have ever been before. But for the foresight that I have, I see no evil you bring.' 

Relief was practically seething off Ren at that point in time. Turgon called Glorfindel to him. The golden haired elf moved up to his King, awaiting orders. Turgon spoke. 

'Glorfindel, since it was you that found Sirithbrethil and her... _company_, I entrust it to your house of the Golden Flower and your duty as its chief to find boarding for them and to aquatint them with the city until further idea to deal with their... _appearance_ surfaces.' 

Ren grinned in glee. It was almost worth going through the trail with Turgon to see the barely masked look of fury and tormented agony on Glorfindel's face at the news that _he_ had to deal with Ren for as long as their stay would last... which may be a long, _long_ time. Voicing her thanks to Turgon, Ren happy grinned evilly to Glorfindel, who rubbed his temples as if having a headache of massive proportions. Retaining what dignity he had, he inclined his head in respect to Turgon and went down to Ren, while Turgon dismissed the court, leaving with his guard. Idril and Tuor came down with Glorfindel, interested in the new additions to their city. Glorfindel was seen to have a quiet whispered conversation with Tuor as goes: 

'Tuor, are all the females of your race as insolent as her?' 

Glorfindel's eyes darted obviously to Ren. Tuor grinned. He liked the young human, from what he had heard of Glorfindel's grumbling. 

'No. 'Tis rare to see such rebellious courage, but I find it admirable on my part.' 

Glorfindel let out a soft groan. 

'I should send her to the House of the Hammer of Wrath, and see if they can do anything to help me by placing her head upon their anvils and striking hard.' 

'I look forward to watching the Golden Flower wilt, if all of the going ons are as of such humour as this one.' 

'Who's side are you on, Tuor?' 

Ecthelion of the Fountain walked up to his friend, grinning almost as widely as Ren had. Holding up a hand in greeting, he laid a comforting hand upon Glorfindel's shoulder. 

'Mae govannen, friend, why the glum look?' 

A long finger pointed obviously to Ren, who was conversing with her teachers. Ecthelion grinned. 

'Come now, _meldir,_ it cannot be _that_ bad.' 

Glorfindel shot him a cold grey glare that clearly stated that it _could _be that bad, and probably much worse. Ecthelion grinned only wider to see his usually so composed and light-hearted friend so aggravated, watching as Earendil, son of Tuor and Idril, walked up to him. The young boy was hoisted up by Ecthelion, grinning in happiness at the thought that Ren could serve as a playmate to him. 

'Uc'le 'Thelion, who's that?' 

Idril rescued Ecthelion from her son, and spoke to him in her quiet melodious voice. 

'That, my child, is a new comer to Gondolin.' 

'Can I play with her?' 

Glorfindel sent the human in question a dark look while he stroked Earendil's hair absently. 

'Not if you treasure your sanity, youngling.' 

* 

Grudgingly, Glorfindel led the company out of Turgon's halls and towards his own house. Ren struggled to keep up with the long-legged Eldar, with her friends also in tow trailing further behind. He was muttering various forms of Elvish curses under his breath, but kept relatively silent. Ren absently recited the beginnings of the tale of Beren and Luthien, unfortunately forgetting that it _was_ the time of the two in question. Glorfindel turned and looked at her. 

'What is that you speak, of Beren and Luthien the fair?' 

Ren cursed herself. How could she have forgotten to keep her mouth shut? Mumbling absently and avoiding the elf's eyes, she responded. 

'Nothing, nothing.' 

Glorfindel looked at her with new apprehension. He felt something was wrong. He mortal knew more than she should know. Shrugging, he dismissed it as nothing for the time being, keeping his mind on how he was to save his house from ending up as a smoking wreck of destroyed debris before the end of the day. He was going to lock up his sword too, for he did not trust himself with it, as its uses were more than a few... These were strange days indeed. However, Glorfindel made a mental note to wrangle this mystery out of the human. Her words were unclear to him, yet they spoke not well to his ears. 

_'Much I know, lord, but nothing I can say.'_

How much did she really know? 


	7. Meet the Maeglin

::Maeglin:: 

Disclaimer: See... Er. Whatever page has a proper disclaimer. 

A/N: I apologize to all Maeglin lovers out there... But it was too tempting to resist... Sorry! 

* 

The first day at Gondolin had been a tiring one, yet Ren could not bring herself to sleep. Sighing, she got up from her chair where she had tried to read something that one of her friends had passed to her and decided to go for a walk. There had not been any restrictions set upon her, due to the fact that there were no fell things in Gondolin that could possibly harm them. Grabbing one of her penknives and slipping it into her back pocket, she slipped out of her room and out of the house of the Golden Flower. Nobody stirred. She had been walking for barely a minute when she saw a dark figure slip towards her. She recognized it immediately as the dark elf that she had seen seated by Turgon. It could only be.... _Maeglin.___

_I will not do anything to him... I will not.___

Maeglin came closer and closer. It became evident he knew she was out that night and wished to talk to her. Ren watched silently from where she stood. Ren burned with concealed hate, her fists clenched behind her back. Maeglin came forward. 

'Sirithbrethil. I have heard of your coming.' 

Through gritted teeth, Ren responded, her mouth forced upwards in a smile. 

'Maeglin.' 

If the dark elf looked shocked that she knew his name, he did not show it. He was not too tall, standing less than a few centimetres taller than Ren, who stood at a measly 160 cm tall. His head was held proud, his black hair streaming unbound behind his back. His eyes glittered, and in them Ren could see a sly undertone of sorts. His features were sculpted coldly and without remorse, and he walked with the air of one superior. 

'For what foresight I have in me, young one, I can tell you know much of the outcome of this city. Would you say?' 

_Say? Say and tell you that I know your snivelling form is going to turn this city into a couple of pillars of ash, dust and fire? And that more than you can fathom I know, and that you will die? And that many who live now will perish to your greed? You wish. Beeping beep of a beep you beeping.... *Breathe*___

'As I have said before, much I know, lord, but nothing I can say.' 

Maeglin suddenly took on a caring, wheedling tone. Ren felt like slapping him. 

'Come now. I am harmless. All I want is to know the prosperity of my city in times to come.' 

_Liar! You bloody friggin' liar!___

Ren kept her face straight and steely, her gaze cold and hard towards the elf. Her voiced was strained to remain neutral. 

'I know not.' 

Maeglin stepped closer so that they were eye to eye. 

'I can give you riches beyond your imagination! Just tell me what you crave, and I will give it to you as long as you tell me what you know...' 

Ren sneered and laughed cynically. 

'You are trading me for jewels and gold? Tell me, son of Eol, what use do I have with _gold?!_ I do not desire materialistic wealth as do you, I do not seek figures of such magnificence! _Greed does not run in my veins as it does in yours!'___

Ren hissed out her reply, her hands trembling in barely concealed rage behind her back as she fought to keep in the obscenities dying to be released from her tongue. Maeglin showed a look of what seemed as shock that one would not be such tempted by greed, but it left as quickly as it came. 

'Then whatever you want, I will give, be it wealth or something else. Tell me, and I will deliver. Surely a maiden as such as you desires something!' 

Ren decided it was high time that Maeglin learnt a lesson about respect towards his youngers. Disregarding her, she could stand. But calling her a maiden and trying to get her to betray what she knew was over the line. She put on a conspiring smile of such that would have seemed wrong in her time, leaning forward slightly with a glint of craving in her eyes. Maeglin looked satisfied with what he saw. The human was in his hands. Ren leaned forward so that she could whisper in his ear. Maeglin waited in bated breath. She was his! She would not be able to betray his plans to the Gondolindrim at this rate, not while she was in his grasp. His foresight, however, seemed to him clouded, but he cared not. Ren whispered into his ear. 

'_You know what I desire?'___

Maeglin shook his head. Ren grinned evilly, drawing suddenly back and punching Maeglin in this nose. She laughed as the elf stumbled backwards slightly, not expecting such a physical *desire* from the young human. Ren did not stop there. She elbowed him in the stomach, and as he doubled up in pain, kneed him soundly in the jaw before kicking him backwards as her foot connected with his head that was bent low. Snarling as she bent low to speak to his crippled form, she sneered into his face. 

'_That_ is what I desire. That felt _so_ good.' 

Maeglin suddenly pulled her down as he sprang back up, punching her across the face. Screeching, he pinned her down and scratched her across the face, drawing blood from her cheek. 

'You idiotic-' 

'Watch your language, elf!' 

'You shall pay, you-' 

'I _told _you to watch your language!' 

Ren stared up at him, unafraid, though slightly dazed at the punch. Maeglin stood up and released her, looking ready to murder her. He was about to draw a dagger when Ren's voice startled him. The human had not moved from her position on the floor, as one normally would. Nonchalantly, she looked up at the stars above, commenting idly. 

'You know, my older brother and me once play fought on the bed. There were two important rules that I learnt from him. Firstly, the floor is never a good place to land. Secondly, never, _ever_ expose your legs unguarded.' 

With a swift move, her leg hooked across Maeglin's ankle and pulled him down. The elf crashed down to the ground. Ren snarled and kicked him in a place... well let us just say between the legs as a polite way of putting it. Maeglin crumpled to the ground, stricken and paralysed. Ren snarled at him again. 

'_Le orqu!' _[You orc!]__

Leaning down, she withdrew her penknife from her pocket and lowered it to his neck. Maeglin, helpless in his pain, looked terrified, but his fear was unfounded as the human cut the cloak from across his shoulders. Muttering rather obscene curses under her breath, she shredded it in two long pieces, and tied Maeglin's hands behind his back, yanking hard and tying a dead know, while she used the other piece to truss his legs up. Heaving the tied and humiliated elf upright, she snatched away the dagger from his belt, and pulled him against a tree. Forcing him upright, she forced his arms up, then jammed the dagger between the bond, narrowly missing his hand, resulting in the dagger being to deeply embedded to yank out either by grabbing or by pushing force. She grabbed the clasp of the cloak that had dropped unheeded on the floor, then jammed it next to the dagger so that Maeglin could not saw his way out. Satisfied, she stepped back and admired her handiwork. Deciding she missed something, Ren took up a badly shredded piece of cloak and stuffed it into Maeglin's mouth, gagging him. Grinning, she leaned close to his face. 

'Now you know, no, _heru? _Do not underestimate young *maidens*.' 

Wiping the blood from her bruised face, she smiled at him before walking back to the House of the Golden Flower, happily tossing her penknife up and down as she went. She managed to sleep well that night. Who cares if she got killed the next day? The bruises on her face were pardon enough. 

* 

'SIRITHBRETHIL!' 

_Nice wake up call, Glor._

Groaning at her aching face and back, Ren pulled herself out of bed just as Glorfindel charged into her room. Rubbing her eyes, she said, 

'What?' 

The chief of the Golden Flower nearly shouted as he spoke to her. 

'_What? You have the courage to tell me *what* after what *occured* last night?_' 

'What did I do?' 

The look of anger on Glorfindel's face did not fade as he thrust a notice into Ren's hands. Ren passed it back as she stretched her back. 

'I can't read Quenya.' 

Glorfindel looked ready to murder. 

'Well, then, do you *happen* to know *anything* about the morning guard finding the lord Maeglin *trussed* up against a tree near my house like a *chicken* with several bruises *and* with a dagger between his hands?' 

'Well, about he being a chicken, he _is _a chicken, but beyond that, no.' 

Glorfindel's hands shot out as his long fingers grabbed hold of Ren's chin and turned it forcefully to the left as he surveyed her bruised and bleeding chin. 

'I suppose it has *nothing* to do with this?' 

'Nope.' 

Glorfindel took deep breaths as he yanked Ren upwards and towards the main sitting room of his house, where several of the chieftains of the various houses were, along with a _very_ battered Maeglin. Ren grinned when she saw him, as he avoided her eyes. Inez and Shu Wen burst in minutes later, with Diana in tow. Diana stopped short as Inez gaped and Shu Wen choked. Ren tugged her arm out of Glorfindel's grasp and leaned over to Diana, conversing with her in soft tones. Diana started to grin too as she leaned over to Shu Wen and Inez. Glorfindel forced Ren into a chair. 

'What is the meaning of this?!' 

'Maeglin approached me last night.' 

'What?! You were out last night?' 

'Nobody said I *couldn't* be out.' 

'And?' 

'Ask him.' 

Maeglin refused to speak. Ren sighed, shaking her head as if she were a wise sage accepting the known inevitable truth. 

'Such a coward. Hitting a child and nearly stabbing me too. Tsk tsk.' 

Glorfindel's eyes widened as he stared at Maeglin. He immediately began to massage his temples. He was not prepared for this. Ecthelion of the Fountain walked over to Ren. 

'That cut may be infected.' 

'Unless he doesn't wash his hands, I doubt it.' 

Maeglin shot a fiery glare of hate at Ren. The girl only smiled humourlessly back at him. Glorfindel waited impatiently for her to continue. Ren tapped her head as if forgetting. 

'Hmm... Let's see. Yakity yak, tell me the future, yak yabber, I can bribe you! Yabber blah, what do you want? Blahdiblah, give you anything! Yayay, anything! Well, OK, now, let's see, what about a nice punch in the face, no? Arghyarg, you punched me you *bleep*, knife, kill, yadda yadda, what else was I to do? I'm just a kid for crying out loud!' 

By then, Glorfindel was trying to ignore the various snorts that were coming from Ren's friends in the background. Why was the world so cruel on him? Maeglin and Ren were engaged in a staring competition. Ecthelion broke it when he walked up and tried to help Ren with the wound, only to get pushed away. In the end, Glorfindel had to force her head to the side in order to allow Ecthelion to clean the scratch. After a few more minutes of discussion, they decided to keep the matter secret, thus dismissing everybody. When Maeglin stood up, though, even Glorfindel had to stop himself from snorting. Ecthelion had a sudden bout of coughing whereas Ren placed her feet on her table and crossed her arms, a smug look of superiority written on her face. On Maeglin's back was a piece of paper with a picture of him crying and wailing, with the words "I want my mummy!' Written on them. Beneath the picture was: 

"Wonder Elf: The Ability to get Beaten By a Twelve Year Old Mortal"   
  
  
  



	8. Interesting Times

::The Leaving:: 

Disclaimer: Erm... 

A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates! This is a major filler like chapter, but please bear with me! Review, too! =) 

* 

Ren was worried. No matter how she looked, she simply could not find _any_ of her teachers. And that was a _lot_ of people to loose, especially in Gondolin. They could not have left the lodging they were assigned to, for none of the members of the Golden Flower, from the guards to the servants, had seen them leave. Ren was frantic, as were most of her friends, and her consistent pacing around the living room was near driving Glorfindel mad. He tried to get her to sit down, at least, but she was too flustered to do so. Talking to Nez, she burbled on. 

'How the *heck* could they have simply run off like this?' 

'I dunno. I mean, Lettucefluff* isn't one to go crazy and run off.' 

Glorfindel glared at her, the look in his eyes clearly portraying his annoyance. 

'We will find you teachers, fear not. Gondolin is not as vast as many other cities.' 

This only served to get Ren to direct her stream of worry at him. 

'But if we could appear here, then it is a great probability that they could have landed somewhere else, like Beleriand, or Nargothrond, or Moria, or Doriath, or Menegroth, or some rural area near Sirion, or the Blue Mountains, or Falas, or Angband, or the Bay of Balar, or Helcaraxe, or...' 

Seeing the look Glorfindel sent her... 

'Okay, I'll shut up now.' 

Suddenly, Sarah Wong, who was across the room and had been admiring a vase, suddenly disappeared into thin air with a loud popping sound that was usually reserved for those Looney Toon Cartoons. Ren dove onto the floor, only barely managing to catch the vase in time. At the same time, Shu Wen, who was admiring a _dagger_, disappeared. Ren wisely let it fall to the floor. Being a hero (by saving falling items) is one thing, but getting killed by a falling dagger is purely stupid idea. After that, pops began sounding everywhere. Glorfindel had a look of pure bliss on his face, as he watched and waited for Ren to go pop. 

Only one problem. 

She didn't. 

* 

Ren was back in Turgon's halls, this time completely alone, dragged by a extremely bedraggled and peeved Glorfindel. Turgon was pacing back and forth, having abandoned the throne long ago. All the pacing was driving Glorfindel up the wall. Turgon, oblivious to the blond elf's distress, made a statement. 

'Something approaches, closely and swift. I can feel it.' 

Ren swallowed, paling. She knew *exactly* what *it* was. Glorfindel eyed her suspiciously and turned upon her, a dangerous look in his eyes. 

'I know you know something about this, Sirithbrethil, and I am quite sure that you know that I know that you know something that I don't know. What is it?' 

Ren looked slightly confused for a while, before replying. 

'Well, yes, I know that you know that I know that you know that I know something that you don't know, but I am only in the middle of the beginning of the end of the beginning of the middle of the end of the story here.' 

Turgon now had his turn to look flabbergasted at the stream of explanations that made no sense. 

'So, wait. You are saying, Glorfindel, that Ren knows that you know that she knows that you know that she knows that you know that she knows that you don't know something that she knows, but yet that it is only the middle of the beginning of the end of the beginning of the middle of the end of the story? But how can that be possible when the beginning has already happened and the end has not yet begun, so how, who, where, when and what?' 

Idril looked from Turgon to Ren to Glorfindel, obviously very confused. Earendil was the only voice of reason in the chaotic war of words. 

'You 'em be crazy.' 

Glorfindel had half drawn his dagger already, looking ready to threaten Ren into submission. Ecthelion, who saw, knew that if Turgon saw that Glorfindel would get his head _sawn_ off, thus made an odd statement to distract the king, grinning idiotically. 

'That is a nice, erm, hairstyle you have there, Sirithbrethil!' 

Ren sent him an odd look. Her hair was tied in a simple pony tail. Tuor looked apprehensively at him as Ecthelion stepped purposefully onto Glorfindel's foot while he grinned stupidly in order to conceal his friend's dagger from everybody's sight. 

'Have you been out in the sun a bit too long, Ecthelion?' 

Ren looked pointedly out of the window. 

'It's raining, Tuor.' 

Turgon slammed a fist onto his table. 

'That is not the point. Something approaches, and I-' 

Turgon never had a chance to finish. A faraway cry and the sounding of horns distracted him. Ren paled. The sacking of Gondolin had begun. And she was slap bang in the middle of it all. In the distance, a cry came up, fair Elvish voices rising in despair and alarm. 

_Yrch! Yrch! Malkarauco! _[Orcs! Orcs! Balrogs!]   


_ 

* Oddly enough, my form teacher's email address is lettucefluff... O.o. 


	9. The Fall of Maeglin

::The Fall of Maeglin:: 

Disclaimer: See Disclaimer. 

A/N: Sorry, Maeglin lovers, sorry! 

* 

_Great. What have I got myself into this time?___

Normal Panic was to do great injustice to the situation. More like apocalyptic-Armageddon kind of Panic. Before she could open her mouth, Glorfindel and Ecthelion had both zipped off to guide their respective houses, Idril fled in her terror, and Tuor, fast though he was could not keep up with her, and lost her in the fray. Turgon left the halls, trying to do something, anything, that could possibly save his people from the coming doom. Ren was alone. The human knew that she could not stay still for long, she could smell the stench in the air and the scent of flame from afar drifting towards her. She was in the palace, no doubt a worthy targets of the minions of Angband. After a moments consideration, she lurched after Tuor and the wailing sounds of the seven year old Earendil. 

_Riiight. Leave a twelve year old in the midst of a whole battle against dragons and orcs and balrogs armed with what? A cynical attitude, that's what.___

_*___

It basically ended up going in this train of thought, words and actions: 

Ren: 'Tuor!' 

Tuor: 'Idril!' 

Idril: 'Earendil!' 

Ren: 'Tuor!' 

Tuor: 'Idril!' 

Idril: 'Earendil!' 

Following the strange, haunting echoes of the gloom of the castle and the pattering footfalls of those she was chasing, Ren dashed after them. Twisting corridors and turning hallways flew past her until they came to the exit of the palace, straight into the mess of the city. Ren had a hard time catching up, but when she did _catching up_ was replaced with more of a _ramming straight into a fuming block of very angry adan._ Tuor was standing, fist clenched to his sides in white fury, as he spied Maeglin upon the walls of Gondolin with his wife and son. What Maeglin was doing upon those steps, to be precise, was... _manhandling_ Idril, his hands upon both her and Earendil. Ren had to duck as Tuor drew his sword to avoid being beheaded as the man charged Maeglin, who responded to the challenge by unsheathing his own long knife. Ren ushered Idril and Earendil to her as they watched the two battle. Back and forth in the backdrop of raging fire and valour did they parry, neither gaining the upper hand. Ren was suddenly struck by inspiration. Withdrawing one of her penknives, she called out. 

'Maeglin!' 

On instinct, the elf turned and ducked as the small blade whistled, though amateurly thrown and unsure on its path, more or less towards him. The black haired son of Eol let his guard down for a split second. It was all the advantage Tuor needed. Maeglin dropped, thrown off the wall by the force of Tuor's attack and anger, and fell down the rocky slopes of Amon Gwareth. 

_Thud_. 

His body hit once against the wall-face of the slope. Earendil grimaced. 

_Thud.___

Again, the body hit against the face of the slope. Idril grimaced. 

_Thud.___

A third time, it hit against the slope and into the fire. Tuor and Ren both shrugged. As Tuor sheathed his sword and embraced his small family, Ren expressed sorrow on her face. 

'No one deserves to die like that, but he brought it upon himself.' 

After a bit and a run into the city, she could not help but comment offhandedly as Tuor gathered the remnant, unburnt bits of the population that were not fighting together. 

'Waste of a good penknife.'   
  
  



	10. A Twist

::A Twist in Fate:: 

A/N: I will take this time to remind you guys... This is **NOT a Mary-Sue, NOT a romance, NOT a tenth member of the Fellowship, and does not follow canon and is very AUish. **Thanks for taking note, yeah?   
**** ****

* 

Ren nearly ran flat out into Glorfindel as they ran from the sack of the city. Gondolin was lost. Turgon was to perish, proud and unrelenting, in his tower, refusing to abandon his city. Idril cried, finding no comfort in Tuor or Earendil at the loss of her father. Ren clung on to the elf, refusing to let go, as her face was written in panic and fear. 

'No! Glorfindel, you _can't_.' 

'I _can _and I _will,_ Sirithbrethil! These are my _people_ facing death! I will not leave them to torment!' 

'You do not know what you face and the doom you inflict!' 

'You do not know what stopping me will do!' 

Ren stopped short, knowing it would be futile to stop him. She could not change history. The girl let go of the elf's shirt sleeve and shadowed her eyes, speaking softly and solemnly. 

'You do not know what you face, Glorfindel, but I will not stop you. Your doom is high, and I cannot stop it. _Namarie, _until we next meet.' 

And Glorfindel was puzzled, but did not speak, only nodding to her, silent and grievous as he walked forward, leading his people. Ren bowed her head and followed, knowing what would happen only too well. She knew to what the heavy footsteps of doom belong to before she saw it. The knew what doom the flames would hold, what terror and fear and grief and death. She watched, drained and saddened, as a flash of gold jumped past her, and closed her eyes as she felt the flame near her, and when she heard the balrog fall. Knowing that Glorfindel fell after it. 

Then she opened her eyes. 

And gasped. 

She was no longer in Gondolin. She was in the... 

'_BRUINEN?!'_

_Oh god._

Looking confused for a second, he finally realized that she was near Imladris. She tried to walk forward, but then her leg connected with something that burned her. Yelping, Ren looked down. The _something_ in particular was shiny, brilliant, bright and beautiful. Grabbing the cloak from Gondolin she had been given before she had disappeared and wrapped it around her hand before dipping it into the water and withdrawing a... 

'Silmaril?!' 

_Oh no._

_*_

Glorfindel looked puzzledly at he river, rubbing his eyes. He was confused when he saw that something was lying, soaked and shouting obscenely at the water, in the middle of the river Bruinen for no reason whatsoever, until rearing Asfaloth up as he reached the bank and jumping lithely off the white horse he finally realized that it was... 

'_SIRITHBRETHIL!'_

_*_

Ren's head snapped up and stared, partially unable to believe that he was alive. 

'Glor?' 

Before the poor, unexpecting, enraged elf lord could react to her sudden appearance in the middle of a river, Ren had launched herself onto him, laughing happily. 

'_GLOR!'_

Caught off guard, even Elven senses could not save Glorfindel from the flying human, and he was sent bowling down straight into the water. Groaning, he let his head drop back into the water. 

'I thought I got rid of you an age ago!' 

But Ren was not listening, instead, she was more on the edge-of-craziness-deliriously-happy kind of state, grinning like a complete idiot but very, very happy. 

'You're alive! Alive!' 

'I won't be for very longer, _nessaer_, if you continue insisting on half-drowning, half-crashing me to death. Get _off_ for Elbereth's sake!' 

'Ah. Right.' 

Ren, dripping wet, still smoky smelling due to the balrog-affair about five minutes her time, about an age ago real time, stood up, smiling sheepishly. Glorfindel stood, looking disgruntled. Laughing uneasily, Ren gathered up her cloak. 

'Er, Glor?' 

Trying to dry off and snapping, Glorfindel retorted quickly. 

'What?' 

'You better take a look at this...' 

Grabbing the cloak that was offered to him, Glorfindel opened it. 

'What could be so important that you can't hold it- Oh, Eru.' 

The Silmaril slipped, glistening and warm, into his hand. Glorfindel shoved it back into the depths of the folds of the cloak and shoved it at Ren. The human looked shocked. Glorfindel glared at the cloak. 

'Do not bring that jewel to me. I have not the strong will to resist it. Keep it in the cloak; it is cursed.' 

Ren nodded, speaking softly. 

'Cannot be held by mortal flesh, unbreakable by anything within the confines of Arda. I thought the Silmarilli were lost an age ago, in air, sea and land.' 

'You are not alone in your belief, until now. They are better lost than not. The evil of the lands are deeply intertwined with these jewels. They have to be disposed of. But they will have to wait.' 

'Why?' 

'The Ring.' 

'Oh no. Tell me I didn't drop into the period of the Ring?' 

'You did. Where did you come from this time? You are wearing exactly the same clothes as the day...' 

Glorfindel turned his head away. 

'That's because I just came from Gondolin.' 

The elf lord's head snapped up. 

'What?' 

'You, technically, died a few minutes ago.' 

Glorfindel physically winced. Ren turned her head from him, berating herself for being so careless with her words. 

'I'm sorry...' 

Glorfindel shook his head, shaking off the moment of shadow. 

'It was not your fault, you could not have prevented what had happened. An age has passed, there is no point in dwelling on it anymore. Come. We must find the hobbits.' 

'Oh. With Estel as well?' 

Glorfindel looked at her strangely, absently stroking Asfaloth on the muzzle as he did so. 

'How did you know Aragorn would be there...?' 

'Never mind, Glorfindel, never mind. Come on, let's go. I have a lot of elf annoying to do...' 

* 

WHERE ARAGORN WAS... 

* 

'Strider?' 

'Yes, Sam?' 

'Why are there two humans in my cooking?' 

'What..?' 

Strider only then noticed the two squabbling humans. 

'Get _off, _Shu!' 

'You get off, Nez!' 

'Shut up!' 

'You shut up!'   



	11. Additions and Subtractions

::Additions and Subtraction:: 

A/n: A nice pre-Christmas tidbit for you! 

* 

'Get _off_ of me!' 

'Shut _up_ Shu Wen!' 

As the two friends quarrelled, poor Sam tapped Inez on the shoulder. 

'Erm... Excuse me?' 

Inez and Shu Wen both turned and snapped at him together. 

'What?!' 

'Get out of my pots!' 

'Oh.' 

As both humans got out of the mess of metal that belonged to a pretty annoyed Samwise Gamgee, Shu Wen tripped over a tree root, unexpectedly yelping out loud. Inez looked at her friend oddly, until she too yelped as something burned her leg with great intensity. Shu Wen was hopping up and down, holding her slightly burnt ankle and muttering under her breath about potholes existing in Middle-Earth. Aragorn looked very perplexed, not knowing exactly how to react to two half crazed, burnt humans. Inez, on the other hand was staring at the something that had burnt Shu Wen's and her legs. Something crystal, ethereally beautiful and bright. Strider stooped down and looked at the object as well, momentarily forgetting he had two virtually unknown humans who had just landed in his camp. Aragorn sucked in a breath as he identified the jewel. 

'Ai Elbereth. It's a Silmaril.' 

* 

Somewhere high up in the sky, hidden by the light of day, Earendil lounged unconcernedly on his boat, laughing at the scenes going on below him. The mariner petted his own silmaril, safe upon his brow. All seemed well and amusing. Until another few of Ren's friends dropped onto him, throwing the boat off course. Diana and Sara began screeching at each other, until they realized where they were. Well, at least _Diana_ recognized where they were. 

'Earendil!' 

They were denied any further conversation as the ship began to sink towards Middle-Earth. Even Earendil was unable to stop it as it floated down towards Rivendell at an eerily slow pace. It managed to stop the two twelve year olds screaming and cursing at each other, at any rate, and that was quite a feat on its own. The ship creaked and groaned, until at last it crashed down. Straight onto the courtyard of Imladris. Earendil buried a hand in his head as the squabbling reignited. 

'Varda is _not_ going to be happy.' 

* 

Asfaloth looked at the human that was quarrelling with his master inquisitively. It was quite amusing, as the two bickered back and forth, and the horse suddenly wished he had a bit of carrot to chew on as he watched the show. 

'I am _not_ riding on your horse!' 

'Why not?' 

'Because... Because... Because it's _yours_.' 

'I fail to see that as a valid excuse, Sirithbrethil!' 

'It will surely throw me off!' 

'It will not!' 

'Yes it _will_!' 

'That will you do, _walk_ back to Rivendell from here? Soaking wet? The season draws towards _winter_, _nessaer_, and unless you have some magical resistance against weather, you will _freeze! _Even your cloak won't help. Wait. Isn't that _my _cloak?' 

'You gave it to me, remember? About an age ago? Ah, whatever. You go find Estel and the Hobbits and I'll _walk_ back to Rivendell!' 

Loosing his temper at last, Glorfindel made a grab at Ren, threw her on the horse and got on himself. 

'I have a couple of hobbits to find, and one foster son of Elrond. So just keep silent, and maybe I will _ask_ Asfaloth to throw you off if so you wish!' 

* 

Shu Wen groaned. As if the results were not bad enough, now she had a Silmaril. Great. Aragorn wrapped it up reverently in a piece of cloth that came from somewhere in the depths of his unending armoury, looking up at Inez and Shu Wen expectantly. 

'Who are you two?' 

'Uh... Friends of Ren?' 

'Ren?! The same Ren that plagued Glorfi-... Wait. That was over an age ago. Even Glorfindel believes that she perished in the flames of the sack of the city.' 

'Uh... Long story?' 

'Never mind, then. Frodo is dying, we have to get him to Rivendell, fast.' 

Pippin suddenly piped up, his face paling white. 

'Sounds of horse feet in the distance! Maybe it's the Black Riders again!' 

Everybody quietened immediately, expect maybe Shu Wen, who was softly snickering for no reason whatsoever. Frodo, though in pain, listened intently. 

'It does not sound like a Black Rider's horse. The falls are far too light.' 

Strider was suddenly light of face, joy finally showing on the worn lines of his face. He leapt out of the bushes that they were hiding him, seeing at last a friendly face, though another face unfamiliar to him was also seated on Asfaloth, dripping and not happy. He called out anyway, too relieved at the support. 

'Mae govannen, Glorfindel! Man le mellon?' [Well met, Glorfindel! Who is your friend?] 

'Mae govannen, Estel! Mellyn na Ren, enwina mellyn.' [Well met, Aragorn! My friend is Ren, an old friend.] 

'Ren? Nin ósanwë fíriel!' [Ren? I thought she died?!] 

As Glorfindel watched confusion spread over Estel's face, he shook his head, slipping back into the Common Tongue. 

'It is too long a story to tell now, Estel. I see you have acquired some... _Companions_ as well. We will discuss this in Rivendell. The hobbit, I see, is injured.' 

As Glorfindel and company discussed about Gandalf and sent his greetings to the hobbits, Shu Wen and Inez had rushed forward to greet their friend, who stiffly dropped off Asfaloth, being half-frozen. 

'Ren!' 

'Hey.' 

Shu Wen hefted the silmaril up in the air, waving it about. 

'You'd never guess what we found...' 

'A silmaril?' 

'How did you...?' 

'I have one too.' 

Eyeing each other, the friends sighed again. This was _not_ going to be an easy age. Turning their attention's back to the conversation, the three friends watched the books, albeit in a slightly edited form, play out before them. Aragorn was briefly telling Glorfindel about the Weathertop attack, as the elf looked gravely at the wound. Withdrawing the hilt of the Nazgul blade, Aragorn passed it to Glorfindel, who shuddered as he took it. Ren started mouthing his lines, just for fun. 

'There are evil things written on this blade, though your eyes may not be able to see them. Keep it, Aragorn, until we reach the House of Elrond! But be weary, and handle it as little as you may.' 

After a few minutes of inspecting the wound, Glorfindel rose, proclaiming aloud to Frodo. 

'You shall ride upon my horse. You need not fear, my horse will not let fall any rider I command him to bear.' 

There Ren snorted audibly, gaining a evil glare from the elf. Frodo disagreed to his offer, though, saying something valiant but useless about not wanting to leave his friends behind lest the Black Riders catch up with them, only earning more persuasion from Glorfindel in return. As usual, the elf won out, and soon Frodo was perched upon Asfaloth. Ren groaned. It was going to be a long walk, and she was already beginning to feel the effects of the cold. Now, without her cloak to wrap herself up in, things were even worse. Her shoes squished as she walked along, trying hard to keep up. Glorfindel, being the annoyingly good, perfect, unending stamina elf that he was, did not stop until the next dawn. Ren was absolutely dead by then, having to lean on both her friends, who were both also leaning on her, both having burnt their legs on the Silmaril. No one dared to step up, though, knowing full well how important Frodo surviving was. Even Aragorn was oblivious to everything else. Ren was muttering under her breath again. 

'Damn bloody elves with their damn bloody stamina...' 

This continued for roughly two days, until it came to the Bruinen. After a few hours of walking, Glorfindel suddenly stopped short, listening, before crying out. 

'Fly! The enemy is upon us! Noro lim, Asfaloth! Noro lim!' 

Frodo was borne away, like a white and black streak, by Asfaloth as the screeching of the Nazgul echoed about. As the blur of black whirred past, Ren yanked Shu Wen, also weary, out of their way only just in time. Cursing, she ushered them back. 

'Dammit, we're all too damn tired now! The flood's coming! Keep low!' 

Together, the three humans limped off. Inez hung back too long, though. The flood came too fast, and if both Shu Wen and Ren had not dived into the freezing waters of the hithaeglir... Glorfindel and Aragorn were wielding torches with the remainder of the able hobbits, clashing and trapping the Nazgul between water and fire. Soon, it subsided, but things were not good for the three friends. Shu Wen's leg was swelling, and she could not walk as she shivered from the cold of the waters. Inez was the least affected, only cold, and only her knee was burnt. Ren was by far worst off, having been whisked from one time period to another was tiring, but she was trembling uncontrollably in cold, clutching the Silmaril until her fingers went numb. It was only after they had huddled together for another hour and more support came did Glorfindel and Aragorn noticed them. The elf rushed over, human at his side, suddenly realizing they had three very sick humans on their hands. As he looked over them, Glorfindel gasped. 

'Oh Elbereth, this is not good. We need to get you back to Imladris, and quickly.' 

Smiling cynically even as she wrapped herself up in the elf's cloak, Ren stuttered back a retort. 

'About time you noticed Glor. About time.' 

Glorfindel was caught, he had rarely seen to a sick human, not to mention such a young group of kids. Ren was already out cold by the time they crossed the Bruinen. And they could not get the silmaril out of her iron grasp without burning half of her to death. Things were not good.   
  
  
  



	12. Uninvited Guests

::Arrival:: 

Disclaimer: Right. Whatever. 

A/N: All filler, no killer. Sorry.. But please check this out: http://renovak.fateback.com/time.html, and I will be forever indebted. =) 

* 

Cold. That was the first and only thing that Ren felt the moment that consciousness flooded and filled her senses for the first time in a number of days. Her fingers felt brittle and frozen together as the biting chill seemed to seep down beneath the hundred or so covers and blankets that seemed to have been piled atop of her. Ren discovered it was very much the same for the rest of her immobile body so that she was basically a sitting human statue on a bed. Realizing it would be pointless to even try to move until her body had sufficiently warmed back to its normal temperature, Ren decided to move the only part of her body that appeared to be more or less functioning as it should: her eyes. The ceiling above her was articulately carved, blending seamlessly together with the columns supporting it. The room was airy, with the balcony door flung wide open, allowing sunlight to filter in and turning the area a warm light gold of what Ren supposed was the early afternoon. Vine like carvings traced around the pillars and window frames, adding to the natural organic feeling in addition to a red leafed tree right outside. After sufficiently reviewing her surroundings and coming to the conclusion that she was in Rivendell, Ren finally managed to move her aching body. 

Pulling the by then stifling sheets off, Ren suddenly found herself thrown into an unsuspecting whirlpool of dizziness and disorientation as the world got thrown into the approximate equivalent of a merry-go-round gone berserk. The next thing Ren felt was a cold, uncomfortably _hard_ rock floor that contacted with her body as she dropped off the bed. Only then, after the bout of sudden spell passed did she realize the silmaril that she had been unconsciously holding had clattered its merry way across the floor, right next to the door. Brilliant, Ren muttered to herself, as she tried to get her unwilling form to consort to her wishes to stand up. The human eventually reconsidered the thought, thinking it safer to crawl there than risk standing, toppling and basically knocking herself out all over again. So and thus, Ren mumbled a curse under her breath and began her sojourn across the three metre long room across to the silmaril, which lay in the pooled cloak that acted as its holder, was lying and glinting innocently in the light that reflected off its faces. After a matter of long, painstaking minutes of pulling her errant being towards the door, Ren reached the silmaril. Grinning triumphantly, the girl picked it up and had just wrapped the jewel up in the cloak once again when the door flew right open. Accordingly, as was logical, seeing as to the fact that Ren was near the wall where the hinges were, the door made direct contact with her body, slamming her very quickly, and one must say rather painfully, into the wall at full force. All may have been well and better if the wall had been a metre or so behind the human, but in Ren's case, the wall being about five millimetres away from her, the action and reaction resulted in a double dose of a rather painful door-slamming episode. Groaning in pain, the human looked up at the being responsible for her rather painful wake up call. 

* 

Glorfindel was speaking to Elrond in the study and enjoying some peace and quiet when the two elves heard a loud thud coming from the direction of Ren's room. Knowing the human, Glorfindel immediately came to the assumption that whatever the sound was, it could not have been a good thing, by any means. Sending a swift glance over to Elrond, the two friends lay down whatever they had been doing and simultaneously walked out of the door, Glorfindel closing it as they swept out. 

* 

Ren looked up and saw one very sheepish looking Glorfindel holding the doorknob and staring down at her guiltily with a evidently amused Elrond peering over his shoulder. The human moaned as she braced herself upright against the wall. 

'You just _had_ to go and do that, didn't you Glor?' 

The look faded from the Eldar's face and he gave a hand and pulled her up. 

'Very funny, Sirithbrethil, but _what_ on Arda were you doing _behind_ a door that opens _inwards?_' 

'Looking for an extremely adventurous silmaril, if you must know.' 

Elrond spied the swab of fabric in Ren's hand coupled with her position at the door and drew up a conclusion of what must have happened. Glorfindel led Ren to the bed. 

'You should have stayed in bed. You are weak yet.' 

'Whatever, Glorfindel, whatever. Where are my friends? I wish to see them.' 

'The two of them are in their respective rooms, resting. The one called Inez has recovered fully and has been spending her time walking around and hounding Erestor, calling him _Lara Flynn Bolye_ or something in that line. Very odd, but if they are _your_ friends, I would not expect less,' 

Glorfindel pointedly ignored the death glare Ren sent his way. 

'But moving on, the one call Shu Wen has only just regained her health, and woke yesterday to assume a position grinning rather evilly at Udomiel in a rather disconcerting way.' 

'Typical.' 

Ren shrugged and slumped back into the pillows as Elrond checked her over for bruises. Five seconds later, the door flew open again and a disgruntled Erestor stormed in, with one Inez trampling after him with a lopsided grin on her face. Shu Wen was trailing after them. 

'Lara Flynn Bolye! I told you, Ren, he looks _identical_ to her!' 

Ren stared at her friend with a look on her face that read "You know that I am going to shred you into a billion tiny pieces when this is over" and walked over to her friend. 

'Why don't you leave Erestor alone _before_ my Adobe Photoshop gets a bit _over enthusiastic_ when I get back home, _yeah?'_

Knowing that when you put Ren in front of a image editing programme in sadistic enough a mood, any character or person would flee or risk being distorted by the clicking of her mouse, which therefore explained Inez's sudden interest on commenting on how nice the dead branch hanging on Ren's balcony looked in the dappled light. Glorfindel commented dryly as he spotted the second silmaril in Shu Wen's hands. 

'Now all we need is Earendil to simply drop down on the courtyard of Imladris and we should be done.' 

_Bad_ thing to say. 

Earendil, Ship and Company had just reached Middle-Earth, Rivendell, Courtyard. Elrond could not help but gape. After all, it is not regular a thing to have your exiled father who saved the world an age ago come landing in your own Elven kingdom with two bickering children in a ship made of mithril and elven glass. Ren just gaped. It was not everyday two of her friends fell into a fictional world in a ship carrying a jewel that burned mortal flesh. The three humans had exited the room before anyone could say anything, and Glorfindel had to stop Elrond from taking the short way down. The short way down in this case being jumping off the balcony. 

*   
  
  



	13. From Mandos, with love

::Reclaimed and Reheard:: 

Disclaimer: *mumble* Tokien... *mumble* not... *mumble* mine... *mumblemumble* 

A/N: Brilliant Fo that I am, I have naturally taken an eternity to write a scrap. Enjoy, mon ami. 

* 

After Elrond Peredhil had managed to wind his way downstairs without breaking any bones in the process, the company managed to make way to the courtyard. Sara Ang's cheerfully annoying voice instantly pierced through the blissful silence as the two groups stared at each other. 

'Ren! You're here too, then? We landed in Earendil's ship, and now we're in Rivendell! Hey, isn't that Elrond? And is that_ Glorfindel?_ Ha, you finally get to see Glorf-' 

An enraged growl from Ren and a quick lunge was what she gained from opening her overly loquacious mouth. Shu Wen and Inez, not to mention Glorfindel, Erestor and Elrond had to all grab her before she killed Sara with her bare hands. Ren waved the silmaril in her hand about at Sara, and grinned at Diana who looked as if her life had become much better. 

'Do you _really_ want to know whether a silmaril can deliver third degree burns to your face?' 

Ren, reminding herself that she did not wish to become a homicidal maniac in Middle-Earth at long last, stood up properly. Sara Ang promptly shut up. Earendil was now looking at Elrond. The resemblance between the two was astonishing, fact being they were, after all, close kindred. Earendil muttered to himself, 

'Long ages have I seen from above the sky. From Mandos' halls I have peered upon Elured, Elurin, Eluchil, even briefly Elros. But nothing compares to this.' 

Five seconds later, Elladan and Elrohir came running in. They stood by their father and stared as well. Elrond was looking disbelievingly at the mariner. 

'Ada...?' 

Earendil nodded. The two were about to do a impersonation of a rather cheesy and overdone movie-style reunion, accompanied by tears and angsty elaborations, but Ren sighed. 

'Yes, yes, he's your father. Get on with it!' 

In return, she had four different Elronds' staring rather dangerously at her. Earendil, Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir. Ren decided it was time to back off. Laughing hesitantly, Ren paced backwards. 

'Right, I'll be in my room, minding my own business and wondering whether Middle-Earth is about to be smashed into itty-bitty pieces by either one very evil Maia or one very angry Elbereth. See you, then.' 

The human turned and ran. Shu and Inez looked at each other. Together, they started backing away as well. 

'Er, we had better.. Make, erm, sure that.. Erestor.. Er, that Erestor doesn't look like Lara Flynn Bolye! Right, yes, that's it!' 

The two ran after Ren, seeing the fault in their reasoning as Elrond's chief advisor had been standing right next to them. Sara and Diana decided that simply running would be a better idea than anything else and bolted. Glorfindel chuckled nervously as the four eyes swung to him. 

'Saes (please), excuse me, my lord. I think it's time I check on whether.. On whether Asfaloth needs.. to... eat... his... Ah... Carrots! Yes, I'll be going now.' 

The Elda fled the scene. Erestor chuckled uncomfortably. 

'Edhored-im, I think Glorfindel may need some help.' 

Erestor, too, ran. 

* 

Somewhere Deep In Mandos' Halls... Eight Disembodied Voices Spoke. 

* 

'Ada...?' 

'What is it, Maedhros?' 

'The Silmarils have been found again...' 

'And three mortal children hold them...' 

'Sauron walks the earth...' 

'And the power of One Ring rules him...' 

'What are we to do about it?' 

'Amrod, Amras, Celegorm, Curufin, Maglor, Caranthir. How do you know this?' 

'The Valar mumble in their secretive voices... Namo is thus troubled, and the sky shakes in Elbereth's rage...' 

'The curse has been revived from it's long slumber...' 

'We will walk again.' 


	14. Mischief

::Horror!::

Disclaimer: Dis-claimer!

A/N: Sorry for the wait! Mostly filler, once again. Yiss, I am now listing what this fic is **_NOT_** : Romance, Add-on to the Fellowship, Mary-Sue/Sue-Mary, Canon or Alternate Ending for the FELLOWSHIP. It **_is_** AU and contains a lot of elves. Yay!

*

Ren sat on her bed in her room, randomly playing with a few strands of her hair and yawning.

_Tired..._

It had been an hour since she had run from the Elronds, and now she was bored stiff, but very tired. Somehow unable to find rest, the human resorted to lying on top of the sheets and staring at the ceiling for inspiration. What was going to happen? Would this alter the outcome of the Fellowship? Would Sauron _win_? Would Elbereth come and kill them for dropping one of the stars from the sky? Was _Manwe_ going to come and kill them for angering Elbereth? Too many questions and even less answers. More and more complex outcomes come into her imagination as she tried to fathom what to do and _how_ to do it.

Something in the corner of the room suddenly caught Ren's eye. It was a strangely familiar backpack. Wait. It was _her_ backpack. Moving forward, she rummaged through it, wandering how it had got there in the first place. She pulled out her copy of the Silmarillion. Idly flipping through the pages containing the Silmarilli, she looked sadly at one sentence. It told of the fact that the silmarilli could not be destroyed by any power on Arda.

_Would we thus have to go to Aman? Or... The Void that is Without?_

Ren tried to banish the thought from her head. She had no wish to go _anywhere_ near Melkor for the next age or so. Ren was more than a little occupied, so she didn't notice that Glorfindel was standing patiently at the door frame waiting for her to notice him until he knocked softly. He book flew from her hands as she spun around abruptly, half falling and half rising off the bed in shock. The elf at the door looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

'Bloody hell, Glor, don't _do _that!'

The blond elf only walked over and picked up the book. His eyebrow shot up further at the title. Ren tried to pry it away.

'I would not suggest you read that unless you know everything about the first and second age, Glorfindel. Let _go!_'

Glorfindel merely plucked it from her grasp with one hand and began to flip through it. The Elda was a surprisingly fast reader as he turned from one chapter to another, scanning each briefly as Ren tapped her foot against the floor waiting for him to finish. About ten minutes later, he finally had his fill of information and the book was swiftly snatched from his lax hold. Glorfindel looked slightly troubled over what he had seen in the book. Even though he had survived through most of it and knew nearly all of what happened, it was much more in depth that many annals then kept on the face of Middle-Earth.

'How do you know all of this, Sirithbrethil?'

'Im u-heina.' [I do not know.]

'Le u-henia?' [You do not know?]

'Yé.' [Yes.]

'Ananta le henia ya yéva?' [And yet you understand what will be?]

'Fir ilqualmë?' [We are all going to die?]

'Im estel avanë.' [I hope not.]

Ren looked to the West, looking at the red globe slowly pacing towards the horizon, pulled by Arien.

'We're all going to die anyway. Either we get razed down to the ground by Sauron in his rage and want for either the Ring or the Silmarils, get flattened by Elbereth for Eärendil, get thrown into the Void by Manwë, or go throw ourselves _into_ the Void to get rid of _these_.'

Ren hefted her silmaril up. Glorfindel slowly took it from the cloak that was bunched around the jewel. The silmaril dropped, cool and bright into his hand. Glorfindel was brought back to times before as he gazed at it. The turned it around in his palm.

'A Silmaril. Something that I hate with all of my heart. So much war, so much death. So much grief.'

'Nirnaeth Arnoediad...' [Tears unnumbered. (Was also name of a major battle from which Glorfindel and Ecthelion escaped with Turgon to Gondolin)]

Glorfindel turned to the West as well as he recalled the fighting and war.

'Nirnaeth Arnoediad was a fruitless battle. So many of the Eldar fell, too many lives wasted and so many Houses of valour burned down to the ground. The High King trampled into the ground by Gothmog, the treachery of the Second Born. What hope we had faded in that battle, so close were we to victory until Melkor sent out his forces and wiped out all that was left. What did the people of Gondolin do? Flee. Flee from battle like cowards.'

'It was not your fault. It was nobody's fault. Gondolin was the last hope for the Elves at that point in time. Húrin was wise to ask Turgon to flee. Unless you wanted to die earlier than when you did?'

'What good did it do? Ecthelion and I hacked away so many, and yet more still came.'

'You were _retreating_, Glorfindel, and not even foresight could have said. But those are times past.'

Glorfindel stared down at the silmaril in disgust before handing it back to Ren.

'But the past has come back to haunt us.'

*

Erestor, Shu Wen and Inez found the two like that just before sunset, still talking. They had, by that time, cast aside the talk of impending doom and were, once again, quarrelling with each other. Ren was staring at him.

'I tell you, Glorfindel means "Golden Haired Horror". Glor-fin-del!'

'Sirithbrethil, do you wish to get your head severed off? I told you, it means "Golden Tress"!'

Glorfindel proceeded to brandish a handful of his gold hair in Ren's face.

'You _act_ like a horror, and you are _named_ as a horror!'

'That is in _Sindarin._ My native language and mother tongue is _Quenya_. And in Quenya, it means **Golden Tress**!'

'But you _speak_ Sindarin!'

'You _know_ why I speak Sindarin!'

'Just because everyone else does does not mean you have to!'

'If anyone is the horror here, Sirithbrethil, it is _you._'

'Orc.'

'Balrog.'

'Warg.'

'Troll.'

Erestor stepped in before it could get any worse. Glorfindel looked up at him.

'Erestor, seas equë im u-glorfindel.' [Erestor, please say that I am not glorfindel.]

Erestor grinned.

'Glorfindel as in Golden Tress or Glorfindel as in Golden haired horror?'

*

That night, dinner was a rather strange affair. Elrond was sitting at the head of the table, as usual, while Earendil sat on his right and Erestor on his left. Beside Erestor was Ren, who sat facing Glorfindel. Next to Glorfindel sat Shu Wen, and Inez across from her. Sara and Diana filled the next row. Elladan and Elrohir occupied the second last two seats, while Aragorn and Arwen sat facing each other in the last seats. The Silmarils sat on the chair directly facing Elrond, wrapped up in custom made holders to prevent any light from shining through and distracting the Elves.

The Silmarils, however, were not the centre of attention that night. Arwen and Aragorn were both soaked to the skin, and the five human children were sniggering madly. Apparently, while Aragorn and Arwen were getting some quiet time on their bridge, Arwen had... _accidentally_ tripped on a piece of taunt rope that had _somehow_ come out of nowhere and had fallen into one of the outlets of the Branduin, dragging Aragorn down with her. Elrond was gripping his knife rather tightly and sawing on his food a little with more than a little bit of force, while Glorfindel had a look of long suffering on his face. But more important things were to be done on the morrow.

The _new_ Council of Elrond.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Appearences

::Let it Rain, Let it Rain:: 

Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me. 

A/N: Sorry about the lack of updates, but school life is no life. By the way, to all Chinese readers, HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEAR! 

* 

There they were, seated in that same impending Circle of Doom, the pedestal standing innocently in the centre of it all and Elrond at the forefront, with Earendil, Elladan and Elrohir by his side. Erestor and Glorfindel sat side by side, leaning back and conversing in soft Sindarin. Mithrandir, the official Guest of Honour at their little council, sat innocently beside them. The humans sat huddled together in a bunch towards the middle and looked pathetically short and pitiful in the face of so many elves. The council started off with the usual speech by Elrond Peredhil. 

'Today we are gathered here, in the face of many dangers, to discuss the fate of the three Silmarilli, resurfaced after an Age of concealment and doubt.' 

There he stopped, looking expectantly at the humans. For a moment, Ren looked back quizzically, wondering what on earth he was staring at them for, before standing and reaching for her Silmaril. She walked forward and placed the jewel in one of the three holders, which had been artistically devised in twisted silver, two of them lower than the final one and a masterpiece on its own. As the bright gem slipped from the folds of grey cloak, a bright white light was reveal to them all, causing the council chamber to be sheathed in a brilliant silver sheen. The energy of one of the jewels alone seemed to pulse through the room, and all elves looked upon it in wonder of Elder Days now lost to them. Ren returned back to her seat, sighing as if a large burden had just been removed from her back. Diana slipped up, holding her own Silmaril from the lacing devised originally for Eärendil, and let it drop onto the second, higher placed holder. The light now deepened slightly, as if it were mixing the essence of the Two Trees, Laurelin and Telperion. It made the light all the more beautiful as it threw the room into different hews and shades of silver and gold. It was hard not to stare openly at the majesty of the two together. Shu Wen strode forward, and as the last Silmaril slid into its holder with a soft "chink", the beauty and entrancing enchantment of the Elder Days of the beginning dawn of the First Age was fully unclothed to them. The light seemed to entwine amongst themselves, showing the true form of the Trees of Yvanna. The council room now had to be the brightest spot in all of Arda. 

The reaction amongst those present were different in their forms. Glorfindel and Olorin looked on with smiles reminiscent of happier days, both having seen the two trees in their full glory before, whereas those not of the Eldar, such as Elrond, his sons and Erestor, all looked on, astounded. Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir sat, entranced by the jewels that had made their family suffer so throughout the days of the Second Age. Earendil just looked on sadly, remembering his wife. The humans just stared, too overwhelmed that something so perfect could be _made_. 

For the longest time, no one spoke, no one could speak, until Ren decided that gaping at three very dangerous jewels was not going to do them any good. The human tore her eyes away from the jewels and, with her cloak, threw a cover over them. The light was suddenly shut out completely. It was as taking a spell off those in the chamber. Everyone shifted in their positions. Elrond shook his head slightly, and nodded his thanks to Ren as she sat back down. He continued from where he left off. 

'These jewels are dangerous, too dangerous. We must get rid of them. What are we to do?' 

No one spoke. Ren sat for a while, deep in thought. As everyone fell silent, she abruptly spoke in a soft tone. 

'We must get rid of them, yes, and there is only one way I can think of doing that. We must bring them to Aman, to the Void that is Without, beyond the Circles of the World. The Elves must come together for once to rid Arda of the jewels. We must go to the Valar.' 

Glorfindel let his head fall onto his fingertips as he shook his head in thought. 

'How are we to do that? We are yet needed on Middle-Earth, now when Sauron is at his strongest. Amongst ourselves alone we carry much power, of the Elven Rings. Realms must be kept together, and how are we to not anger the Valar? Earendil dropping from the sky has already betrayed what they had once set for him, and it is known that Mortals, the Second Born, cannot be borne to Valinor.' 

Diana shook her head as well. 

'Then what is our purpose for _being_ here? Surely we would not drop onto Arda just for the fun of it? Nor Earendil fall from the sky in coincidence? Surely we are here for a _reason? This_ reason?' 

She pointed to the covered Silmarilli with her hand. Erestor buried his head in his hand as he muttered under his breath, 

'Who are we to know the plans of the Valar, or even Illuvatar?' 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, and generally to the surprise of everyone around, two bright figures, one male and one female, stepped into the council room. 

'We do.' 

Elrond's mouth seemed to have permanently hung itself agape. Elladan and Elrohir were more or less mirror images to that. Glorfindel abruptly stood up, knocking his chair over in temporal shock and then dropping to his knees, muttering gibberish to himself as he kept his head down. Gandalf merely stood up and smiled, though he too looked shocked. Erestor stared. Just stared. Earendil suddenly decided to edge s l o w l y away from the council room, but a sharp look from the female sent his quavering. Ren looked from left to right, drew a conclusion, then threw herself down next to Glorfindel, muttering gibberish that sounded something like "ohshitweareallgoingtodieitsmanweandvarda" (Roughly translated: Oh shit, we are all going to die, it's Manwe and Varda.) Diana, who managed to catch the last bit, looked at Shu Wen, who cocked her head in confusion. Diana shook her copy of the Silmarillion, flipped to the content page and rapidly began to circle the word VALAR in panic, then made a motion with a finger slitting her neck. Shu Wen's eyes widened, and both of them threw themselves down after Ren. Inez and Sara looked around in confusion before noticing that Erestor and Elrond looked frightened to death, Glorfindel was on his knees and even Ren was quavering, and thus decided that the safest idea was to follow suite, thus started know-towing in accordance. 

As if the sudden appearance of the two most powerful Valar was not enough, five seconds later... 

'ELVVVVVVVEEEEEEEEEEEEES WITH LOOOOOOONGGGGGG POIIIIIINNNTTTTTTTYYYYYYY EEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRSSSSSSSS!' 

Ren paled as she watched one of the most insane of her friends, Yvonne, use Manwe and Varda as a landing pad. 

"Ohshit, we are all going to die, Yvonne is going to start pulling a _VALA's_ hair, Manwe is going to crush us into tiny little bits and Varda will set us all on fire.' 


	16. About Them

::Reaching Down:: 

Disclaimer: Mine! 

A/N: Okay, to all my friends, I'm open to any suggestions on _who_ will be going on the Fellowship of the Silmarilli (what, all of us?), just bonk me on the read in school or something. Anyway, the plot from hereon will be revealed, more or less... But this chapter is all filler! 

* 

Glorfindel did not start as he felt Varda enter his conscience, her gentle but firm voice filling his mind. 

_Glorfindel...___

_My lady.___

_So our efforts have not been in vain? You have indeed returned to do as you were bid.___

_So I have.___

There was a pause as Varda considered Glorfindel's unusual curtness. 

_She will change things. She must change things.___

_To all ends I cannot see.___

_It has been said, told, _fore_told. You know -you knew-.___

_It haunts me still.___

_You cannot change the past.___

_But the past can change me.___

_It has, laure-ohtar [gold warrior], it has, but *you* are letting it change you again. Why do you let these memories haunt you, like they had, like they have, like they *will*?___

_I lost everything, everyone. Do you not see, my lady? Time should have healed me, -it did-, and now she comes back to us -back to me-, and everything I know is changed. Memories return - far too fresh for my liking. She...___

_Why do you hide from a past; *your* past?___

_It burns too much.___

_Shadow and flame... and darkness. Is that all that you fear?___

* 

Glorfindel felt his brow furrow slightly as Varda left him. He felt more than saw Ren about to shift and catch her friend from doing anything rash, but his hand managed to stay her first. The human shot him a look that clearly displayed that Yvonne meant trouble, quite literally. Glorfindel only pulled her back.   
  


Yvonne was slightly confused. Was this the place with the elves with long pointy ears that Ren kept on talking about? Was that not Ren next to an... elf! Yvonne broke out in a grin and ran forward, ignoring the fact that she had just flattened two important looking people with long hair and squealed. The attack was afoot, as she grabbed those pointed ears. She pulled.   
  
  


Glorfindel almost yelped out in surprise as the one called "Yvonne", a rather rabid looking creature with two plaits launched herself at him and yanked on his ears rather forcefully, screeching something about "long pointy" at Ren. The other human had a look of long suffering imprinted on her face as she watched the elf getting tortured by her friend. Yvonne abruptly stopped, hopping off the startled Glorfindel and started laughing at her and pointing. 

'BANG!' 

Ren rolled her eyes. Yvonne and her had this crazy game of "shooting" each other, but now really was not the time for it. She sent Yvonne a warning look, but as usual Yvonne did not listen, and Ren did not bother to argue with her, as she kept her face buried in her hands. To be truthful, Glorfindel did not blame her. He was doing the same. 

But by the Valar, his ears hurt. 

* 

Ren watched in numb horror as Manwe and Varda picked themselves up, looking slightly miffed but not overly surprised. Was this all planned? The human decided she did not was to know. Deciding it was time she stood up, Ren rose then collapsed back into her chair as her shaky legs refused to cooperate. Glorfindel too rose up after her, and soon the rest of the council room was more or less in some form of order. Elrond tentatively stood forward, bowing his head. 

'Manwe Sulimo a Varda Elentari, mae govannen. Nin essë Elrond Peredhil, sinome Imladris, nin már.' [Manwe and Varda, well met. My name is Elrond Half-Elven, this is Imladris, my home.] 

Manwe shook his head in mirth as his soft laughter echoed around, causing nature to herald him once again. It was, Ren decided, quite disconcerting to have birds in the branches burst out in song and the sun shine brighter every time one laughed. One of the quirks of power, she supposed. 

'There is no need for such formalities, Earendillion.' 

Elrond bowed in respect. 

'But concerning the Silmarilli...' 

_Uh oh._   



	17. Chosen

::Manwe:: 

Disclaimer: Heh. 

A/N: Joy! I update! Must hit one hundred reviews, so please HELP ME! 

* 

Elrond almost felt faint. A vala and a valië were in _his_ House, of all places they could have chosen to inhibit, his chief advisor was looking dumbstruck, Glorfindel was too busy being manhandled by some screeching creature, Ren was occupied trying to save him, Eärendil was shuffling under Varda's gaze and Celebrían was in the West over in Valinor, too far away to save him, at any rate. Manwë took a step forward, an unreadable but dangerous look on his calm face. Elrond took a step backwards, edging slowly away. Manwë took another step forward. Elrond took another step backwards. 

_Glor!, _he wanted to scream, _save me! _Mithrandir only sat smiling in the corner, knowing full well that Elrond was having a hard time. How lovely. 

* 

Glorfindel was clearly suffering under the tormenting hands of Ren's insane companion. Yvonne was attacking his hair with the air of a savage predator, his ears looked abused and red, and hope had decided to take a holiday for him. Ren decided it was time for the art of subtle persuasion. 

'Y-v-o-n-n-e!' 

The shrieking organism in question looked up, a fistful of golden strands in her hands. Glorfindel tensed, hoping that this was the break that he had been waiting for: escape. Ren winced, fingering her own abused locks. She shook her head of the distraction. 

'Come here.' 

Yvonne cocked her head curiously, wondering what Ren was up to, then scampered over. Ren bent down and whispered something into Yvonne's ear. Glorfindel rubbed his head, grimaced, then got up, shooting a thankful glance in Ren's direction. The human only grinned. Yvonne was a _weapon._ A very useful weapon. 

* 

The air was just right. A touch of wind, but that did not matter. The target was locked, hair, height, position and all, and the time was perfect. The biological clock ticked, just a little bit more... Now. Yvonne let out a ear piercing screech, and launched off at a gallop. She threw herself at Manwe, latching on to the vala's back with almost deadly precision. She let off a victorious yell as her target buckled at the sudden addition of weight. 

'An elllllllfff!!!' 

* 

Manwë gasped aloud in surprise and alarm as some unearthly creature fell upon him, clinging onto his back with what felt like talons. _Sharp_ talons, to be precise, digging into flesh. But they felt a bit _blunt?_ The vala let rational thought abandon him as he felt his balance leave him and came crashing down to the floor, floored by his anonymous attacker. Elrond fled before the vala toppled over him, running to the relatively safe area near Mithrandir and Erestor, the only two who had seemingly stayed out of trouble - and harm -. 

* 

Sara saw Yvonne, and Yvonne saw Sara. Ren saw Big Trouble. The human somehow had an uncanny feeling that Manwë was doomed, and that Namo was going to get a visitor very soon, if the two had their way. Sara took off before anybody could stop her. Manwe distinctly felt the weight on his back get greater. Ren distinctly felt herself get dizzier. 

_Eru save me._

Eru only laughed to his intangible self. Oh, this was _fun_! 

* 

Ren walked quickly over to Glorfindel, picking the elf up as quickly as possible. There was another screech as Earendil, who had been edging around the chamber trying to escape Elbereth, tripped over Sara, who tripped over Yvonne, who had already tripped Manwë over. The result was not pretty. On top of Manwë lay two humans, a star and his own wife. Elrond looked dangerously near the point of laughter, an knowing that that would result in a billion things involving death and untimely judgement, Ren snatched hold of the cloak covering the silmarilli and pulled. 

Bright, shining light once again filled the chamber. Everyone stopped moving. Ren smirked, then threw the cloak over the three jewels again. 

_I knew those three jewels had to be useful for _something_._

'Can we discuss this _peacefully?_' 

* 

It was thus decided. They would leave Rivendell with the Fellowship of the Ring, yet named a separate group: Govannas-i-Silmarilli, The Fellowship of the Silmarilli. The group would consist of Ren, Diana, Shu Wen, Earendil, Sara, Inez and Yvonne: The seven "sons" of Feanor representatives. Glorfindel, Haldir, Erestor, Galdor, Gildor and Thranduil for the Elves. EarManwë and Varda as representatives for Valinor and peacemakers. Access would be granted for the time being for the humans to cross across to the Blessed Isle in order to make way for the mission. Everything would be carefully printed out and planned for the next few weeks or so, before they set off. 

Their path would be simple: Loop from Lothlorien to Mirkwood, then through the Pass of Rohan and to the West. 

If only _walking_ the path would be that easy... Already they were quarrelling and they had not even set foot out of Rivendell... 

* 

'_I am not going to go near Asfaloth!'_

'My horse is not going to kill you, Sirithbrethil.' 

'She, he, whatever _it,_ looks dangerous.' 

'Asfaloth is about dangerous as I am.' 

'Then the animal is clearly _rabid_.' 

'Sirithbrethil.' 

* 

'But _I_ want one of the shiny looking swords too!' 

* 

'Pretty horse...' 

* 

Glorfindel sat in the armoury, sharpening his sword. It had been stolen by Arwen when she had planned to sneak off to the Ford without her father's consent, but Glorfindel had managed to prevent her from committing obvious suicide and had gone off to rescue Aragorn and the Hobbits as planned. Ren was sitting opposite him, looking at the sword dreamily, enamoured by the bright blade and the intricate runes as it ran, up and down, up and down across the grindstone. Deadly, sharp, cold and lethal, beautiful in its own sense, a frozen metal. And the runes, delicate traces and curves, a Tengwar that she could not read -yet-, but Ren knew that she was going to learn. If she did not learn it herself, she was going to _force_ those elves to teach her. So fine, like a tracing of mist and silver flame, brilliant in its own flaring splendour. Such a blade, fitting together with its ivory coloured hilt, traced with the slightest gild of the precious metal _mithril_, so well shaped and balanced. Only an elf of this age could possess such a fine object, beyond price or description. Pretty_! _No, Ren was strange indeed: Lusting not after Elves but rather after sharp, pointy objects. 

Strange human. 

_Glorfindel o Gondolin, Laureloth._

The blade sang its own song to her, chanting, twisting _Glorfindel of Gondolin, Golden Flower._ It whispered around her, telling her, luring her. It was a pull. 

_Screaming, death, light and shadow, flame and darkness._

_Glorfindel o Gondolin, Laureloth..._

_Wind, cloud, blood and pain, doubt and fear._

_Glorfindel o Gondolin, Laureloth..._

_Relief, tears, high passes and ridges, mountains and rock._

_Glorfindel o Gondolin, Laureloth..._

_Panic and shock, burning and flare, attack and madness._

_Glorfindel o Gondolin, Laureloth..._

_Pain and emptiness, falling and sound, lifeless and dead._

_Glorfindel o Gondolin, Laureloth pelitha... ( fade away)_

_Churning and spinning, dizziness and euphoria, light and wonder. Peace._

_Glorfindel._

_Confusion and suspicion, wariness and loneliness._

_Glorfindel._

_Waiting and walking, halls and corridors. Space._

_Glorfindel._

_Selection and revelation, burden and return._

_Glorfindel o..._

_Understanding and comprehension, acceptance and grace._

_Glorfindel o.._

_Awakening and answering, beckoning and fate._

_Glorfindel o Gondolin..._

_Comprehension and dauntlessness. Resurrected._

_Glorfindel o Gondolin, pelitha ananta... (faded but yet)_

_Receiving and coming, friends and feeling._

_Glorfindel o Gondolin, pelitha ananta an i ando o umbar nuquerna... (Faded but yet the gates of doom turn away)_

_Remembering and sorrow._

_Glorfindel apambar (After-death)_

_Simply and just, only and alone._

_Glorfindel o Gondolin vanwa, Glorfindel ve Glorfindel erdë. (Glorfindel of Gondolin is dead, Glorfindel as Glorfindel alone.)_   
  
  



	18. Possession

::Possession:: 

Disclaimer: I want to own Glorfindel... Can I? Please? 

A/N: Sorry for the incredibly long delay, but the muses have been quarrelling and Secondary School Life Sucks (SSLS). To answer soul's question, yes, I am Singaporean, born and bred, but am hoping to drop into Middle-Earth anytime soon to bug Glorfindel for the rest of his pretty, pretty life. *grin* For this chapter, intense knowledge of the Silmarillion and Gondolin is required, so for those who don't know much about the Hidden Rock: Canonically, there was only one mortal to enter: Guess who? Tuor. He was under the instruction of the Lord of the Waters, a powerful vala named Ulmo, to convey a message to Turgon, who, guess again, didn't listen much (you can see references to this in the chapter "Turgon's Halls"). Turgon himself was also influenced by Ulmo to come to Gondolin and found it (how else would he have found a bloody rock in the middle of nowhere? =)). Therefore, from all of Ulmo's interest in Gondolin, I've assumed that Glorfindel would also have been under his instruction, especially when coming back to Middle-Earth (at least, this is my belief). If he was truly sent back to protect and look over Elrond's line, it's clearly understandable why Ulmo would want to interfere: Turgon> Ulmo> Gondolin> Safehaven for Tuor and Idril> Earendil born, father of Elrond> Glorfindel falls with Gondolin> Goes to Mandos' halls> Is released to be used as the herald/vassal for Ulmo> Returns to Middle Earth in Early Third Age/ Late, late Second Age> Goes to Imladris> Helps Elrond, which brings it to a full circle. Correct me if I'm wrong, because I don't have my Peoples of Middle Earth and Silmarillion with me right now, so all of this is out of memory. 

* 

Darkness crept into the depths of her mind, and nothing was everything for the longest time. There was naught but oblivion, sweet oblivion, no sight nor life nor emotion in the very echoes of Never, but for the sound of the waves. The salty essence of the sea, permeating her every sense, and the crashing, the eternal crashing of the sea. Confliction, confusion, nothingness, just the breaking of the waters, forever crashing... 

* 

Glorfindel slowed his sharpening when he felt some other-worldly presence, regal and demanding, fill the room, one that he usually only felt around... _him_. The elf's arm froze, and he titled his head upward to glance at Ren, who had followed him to the armoury. Glorfindel's entire frame tensed. 

'Laurëloth; laurë-ohtar, im amrath na le amrath, Eru erdë henia.' [lit. Golden flower, golden warrior, my doom is your doom, Eru alone knows.] 

Glorfindel's brow furrowed slightly. 

'Sirithbrethil? Sirithbrethil! Ren...?' 

The human just stared at the silver blade, clearly enamoured. Deep inside, though, something was wrong, the elf could feel it. There was something amiss in those dark, over-glazen deep brown pits with endless depth that bore into nothingness. A silver brilliance suddenly flickered for a moment, flaring alive then falling, dead into remembrance and ashes. 

This was not Ren; this was not Sirithbrethil. The human was gone, her eyes were dead, only reflecting the malicious glint of the silver and white. Glorfindel instinctively gripped the blade harder, before common sense, or maybe some other voice in his head, told him to put it down. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. The tip of the blade had just barely scraped the stone floor, its metallic voice scratching the ground slightly, when a hand moved out to grasp the hilt over Glorfindel's own. Ren's hand. The elf-blade flared in a significant pulse of transparent white and palest blue. Glorfindel shuddered. 

'Sirithbrethil...' 

Her head lifted, hollow orbs of suddenly nearly blackest night screaming silence and the essence of death as only the slightest ream of white wove subtly around the glinting iris'. An eruption inside his head, screaming at him. The eyes were not hers. 

_You know these eyes: They haunt you._

A blue flare sparked within those depths, and the pupils dilated before all abruptly shrank back to normality, and the usual brown eyes were coloured the deepest of blues. Ulmo. Glorfindel felt his entire being contract into the moment, and the blade clattered, useless, against the floor. Ren's body fell, limp, to the floor as Ulmo came into being in his form, abandoning his previous body, namely Ren's. Glorfindel slowly got to his knees and bowed before Ulmo, the royal presence of the Lord of All Oceans filling his being like it had so many years, decades, _centuries_ before. 

'_Heru-nin._' [lit. Lord-my, fig. My lord.] 

Ulmo smiled a self-satisfied smile to himself as he bid Glorfindel to rise. His sharp eyes roved over the elf, taking everything in. The same old Glorfindel, as regal and powerful as ever, the straight back and good build, the same golden locks and deep eyes, now wiser and brighter than before, encompassing all knowledge that he had gained through the halls of Mandos. The same elf that he commanded to return, the same elf with the same duty. Ulmo knew he had made a good choice. 

'Glorfindel.' 

The elf in question inclined his head slightly. 

'You have done well so far, I've heard.' 

'The rivers and rivulets, streams and the Bruinen. All lead back to you, lord. I hope I have done what I was sent out to do, to as far an extent as possible.' 

Ulmo's smile widened slightly. 

'Always so formal, Glorfindel. You need not worry, your efforts have been well. Elrond's house is in good hands, just as I would have thought long ago. This,' Ulmo made a movement in Ren's direction, 'however, was an... unexpected occurrence. You look down upon her, Glorfindel.' 

Glorfindel let his glance linger for a moment on Ren. 

'There is nothing else I can do regarding her, lord. I can see her as naught more.' 

Ulmo sighed. 

'She knows many things, she and two of her other friends, Glorfindel, so many things. Yet her knowledge may yet be false, for now that she is here, everything might change, or nothing at all. None of us know. Ren, or Sirithbrethil as you call her, knows... _slightly_ more than her fellow compatriots, but the three of them are one no less dangerous than the next.' 

Glorfindel murmured quietly as he looked at the dark haired child, not really able to comprehend what Ulmo wanted him to do. 

'Which three, lord?' 

'The three who carry the Jewels. They are essential, Glorfindel, for as much as my foresight can see. They know more of this Age than they do the last, which alone is much in itself. Do not let her stray, Glorfindel, there is evil everywhere, and not all has been well in Aman either.' 

Glorfindel's head immediately snapped to meet Ulmo's eyes. How could anything be amiss in Aman, last haven of the elves? 

'How...?' 

'None of us know, Glorfindel, but the Oath has been... reawakened.' 

'Not... the _Oath_. The Curse of Mandos, walking anew...? Meaning, lord, that...' 

'The Eight tread these lands once more, Glorfindel.' 

Glorfindel let his eyes rest on the Jewel next to Ren. 

'Then none of us is safe, she especially, if all is to be seen as you say.' 

Ulmo looked at Glorfindel. Glorfindel at once felt the weight of duty, once so easily carried through the endless years, decend heavily upon his back as his purpose returned to him again. Ulmo shook his head in sorrow. 

'I depend on you once again, Laurë-fin (Golden Hair).' 


	19. Humour

::Adaptations of a Polar Bear:: 

Disclaimer: Diss the claimer! 

A/N: I up date, you review, I'm happy, you're happy, no? 

* 

Ren groaned in annoyance as someone shook her right shoulder lightly. _Go away,_ she thought, _my head's pounding so _please_ go away!_ The shaking, however, did not stop. Ren shifted uncomfortably on the stone for, finally blinking her eyes open irritably. _Since when did I even fall asleep? _Then she remembered the crashing of the waves that had melded for a moment with the eternal silence, and her eyes slowly came back into focus. Ren saw the elf in front of her, coolly holding his sword as if nothing had happened, his piercing blue eyes averted from her. 

'Glorfindel...?' 

He looked up, his eyes strangely distant for a moment, before speaking, his voice aloof and emotionless as he ground the blade slowly over the stone. 

'Nothing ever happened.' 

Ren tried her hardest to remember, but it was as though the memory fled before her, and nothing would come to her. Glorfindel, tracing a long finger over the side of the blade, finally stood and helped Ren up. Glorfindel glanced at her for a moment, before suddenly shaking his head and leaving the room silently. Ren could only follow him, puzzlement written upon her face. 

* 

Sara grinned as Shu Wen passed her the bucket of iced water. Shu Wen, Inez, Diana, Yvonne and herself had taken the liberty to make some... alterations for Arwen's door. Having being bored to death, even with the novelty of the cold weather about them, the five human children had decided it was high time for something to happen to the Evenstar of the Elves. Diana tugged the string firmly into place, then grinning madly, the five jumped out of the windows, very thankful that Arwen's room was on the first floor and situated next to one of the less crowded gardens in Imladris... 

* 

Arwen hummed the Lay of Leithian softly as she floated gracefully down the corridor, arm in arm with Aragorn, who was grinning like a deranged idiot at finally being back home with her. Aragorn's lower tones mixed with her higher chords to make a rather entrancing melody. 

_Tinuviel eluvani,_   
_elleth alfirin edhelhael,_   
_o hon ring finnil fuinui_   
_a rene gelebrin thiliol...___

_Tinuviel the elven fair,_   
_immortal maiden Elven wise,_   
_about him cast her shadowy hair,_   
_and arms like silver glistening.___

Aragorn was still grinning like a deranged madman when she opened the door. All around Imladris, a foul screech could be heard: 

'_ADA!_' 

* 

Elrond was started from his work, as an unearthly sound that echoed somewhat like Arwen's reached his ears, causing him to streak a large blot of ink over a treaty paper bound for Thranduil. Looking down at it, Elrond decided it was something of a good idea, added another large blot in the opposing direction, folded the letter up and plopped it into his outbox before hitching up his robes to go find out what had caused his beloved daughter such distress. 

When he arrived at Arwen's room, all Elrond could do was gape. His daughter, alongside his foster son, was dripping in iced water, her _white_ gown sticking to her, contrasting sharply with her raven hair. 

_'REN!_' 

* 

Ren was in her room, rereading some relevant part of the Shibboleth of Feanor, which had, surprisingly, popped up from nowhere alongside the rest of her Histories of Middle-Earth collection, a fact for which she was immensely grateful for, when she heard her name being yelled. She started and put down the volume, shaking her head and wondering what she had done, when she realized that the voice was not Glorfindel's, as she assumed it had been, but rather Elrond's. Putting pieces together, she snapped back to reality. 

'_SARA_!'__

_*___

Sara and company were grinning in belated elation over the screeching noise when the ringleader heard her name being screamed. They all looked at each other. _Run_, she mouthed, and they bolted down the corridor, hoping to evade Arwen, Aragorn, Elrond and Ren. In the end, they bumped into none, but rather Glorfindel. The Elda took one look at their guilty faces before shouting down the corridor, 

'_ELROND!_' 

* 

Ren came running down the endless halls of Rivendell, straight towards Glorfindel's group, with Elrond, his children behind him, trailing after her looking ready to kill. Arwen was leaving a steady stream of water behind her as she ran, and Aragorn had squelching shoes. Glorfindel dragged Sara forward. Ren skidded to a stop behind the fair haired Vanya (again, an assumption. Is there _anyone_ who knows his real race?) before pointing to Sara. 

'It's all her fault! I'm innocent... This time around!' 

Arwen turned on Sara. 

'Le tithen Malarauko, im noro degi le!' [Sindarin: You little balrog, I'm going to murder you!] 

Elrond placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. 

'Bein iell-nin, lada-le. Breged-asgar rhoeg.' [Sindarin: My beautiful daughter, soothe yourself. Violence is wrong.] 

'Ada, nin mablod rhitho, aniron-im tulos maeg-naeg.' [Sindarin: Father, my hands twitch, I desire to bring about sudden pain.] 

Glorfindel shot her an amused look, while Ren moaned in a fake voice, pretending to be strangled. Sara and company watched on in amusement. Arwen smirked as she looked at her. 

'Le na othlond nin gurthu.' [Sindarin: You are the paved way to my death.] 

'Nin na i guruthos.' [Sindarin: I am the horror of death.] 

Glorfindel could not prevent himself from snorting as Ren turned her back to translate to her friends, and Sara beamed at being called a "little Balrog" and thought that, is she had been here so short a time yet was practically already blacklisted, that Middle-Earth would not be so bad after all. Glorfindel had to surpress another bout of laughter as he watched Arwen turn to gesticulate various signs to her father, all the while making her already unruly appearence even worse. 

'Na-i thegra thenid le uluithiad thaw neuthai.' [Sindarin: Lit. That is the first true thing out of your unquenchably corrupted thoughts. Fig. Something true finally comes out of your corrupted mind.] 

'Nin hall-neuthai rui rum telin, im cuio mavrin-mavrin.' [Sindarin: Lit. My high and hidden thoughts whisper secret games to me, and I live in desirable darkness. Fig. I am crazy and live in a maddened world.] 

Glorfindel shook his head in mirth, as he finally took the chance to take in Arwen's appearance. 

'Le bui fos, nin hiril!' [Sindarin: You are in need of a bath, my lady!] 

Ren doubled over in laughter as she translated for her friends, and Arwen stalked off to her bathroom. A minute later, there was a screech. Ren leant over to ask Sara what they had done this time, and by the time she could speak, she could barely manage to get the words out of her mouth to tell Glorfindel. 

'Hin nestegi gal-celw Arwen calf.' [Sindarin: Fig. They put green dye into Arwen's bath.] 

Elrond paled and took off to her chambers, Aragorn trailing not far behind, whereas Glorfindel was gasping for breath as he fought down his laughter. 

'Im iest siniath nui han...' [Sindarin: I wish I had news before this...] 


	20. Ecthelion

::Of Gondolin:: 

Disclaimer: Not mine. 

A/N: Sorry about the delay... This is going to be a very filler-ish chapter, because I just cannot be bothered to do much right now. 

* 

Ecthelion was barely able to control the grin spreading over his features as he practically bounced into the living room that was shared by the ex-Elf Lords of Gondolin in Aman. It was a rather lazy afternoon, and it was agreed that on that one particular afternoon, the nine lords, excluding Salgant and Maeglin, both of which was most likely still stuck in Mandos, would gather and have a drink or two in there. The room was stuck in the centre of the Twelve Houses, so that the corridors spanned out in a crystal-like formation, with the living room as the centre. It was not exactly a _room_ but rather a collection of rooms, with one main chamber in the centre. It was in the main chamber that they were gathered. It was an airy place, with many windows that let the sunlight filter in, creating a cheery atmosphere for most part of the year. The furniture in the room was spread somewhat haphazardly about, leaving a space occupied by a large table in the middle. Ecthelion charged in through one of the main doors and threw himself onto one of the many couches in the area. 

Duilin of the House of the Swallow was slumped in his chair, idly twirling an arrow about his fingers for no reason whatsoever, looking dead bored with nothing to do. Next to him Egalmoth of the Heavenly Arch was dressed, as usual, in blue, sipping on a cool drink while looking with one eyebrow raised at the usually calm Ecthelion grinning like a deranged madman. Penlod of the Pillar and Tower of Snow was whistling to himself, while Galdor of the Tree was talking in soft tones with Rog of the House of the Hammer. Tuor was playing a game of cards with Turgon, but looked up when Ecthelion came in. The lord of the Fountains tried to slow his breathing as he gasped, 

'He's coming! He's finally coming over to Aman' 

Turgon shifted himself in his seat as he cocked his head quizzically at Ecthelion. 

'Who's coming?' 

Ecthelion looked incredulously at the previous king of Gondolin, then spoke slowly, as if stating the blatantly obvious. 

'Glorfindel. Glorfindel is coming. You know, Glorfindel, my best friend...? Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, Glorfindel the Golden, the one with the golden hair?' 

Duilin rolled his eyes and spoke to prevent Ecthelion from continuing his rant. 

'I think we get the point, Ecthelion, wise and old one. Next time, you could just _tell_ us who is coming before you start rattling off.' 

Ecthelion glared at him, but shook his head in mirth nevertheless. Legolas Greenleaf, the _original_ Legolas Greenleaf of Gondolin (it was far too easy to mix the two up in Aman), sighed in confusion. 

'But how could Glor be coming over so quickly? I doubt Sauron could have been defeated _this_ quickly, and he would most likely be coming over with the Peredhil, whom I am sure still has plenty of business to settle over there.' 

Ecthelion frowned, his brow furrowing. 

'I know... Something must have happened. Glor would not abandon Middle-Earth for nothing in times like these...' 

The nine lordly figures were all started from their silent contemplation when a bright, yet somehow subtle figure slid into the room. Turgon exclaimed aloud as he saw who it was. 

'Lórien!' 

The Vala looked up simply at him, his silvery hair billowed behind him as a chill wind circled around him. 

'They have risen. Come.' 

The Gondolindrim followed without protest as Lorien the Dreamkeeper slid out of the door again. 

* 

The light was blinding, the feelings were burning and emotions seemed to form a concoction in the air so thick it was almost tangible. The silence, the unending silence was shattered by the sad trill of a faraway bird. Feanor winced. Maedhros winced. Maglor winced. Amrod winced. Amras winced. Celegorm winced. Curufin winced. Caranthir groaned. The eight elves looked at each other, eyes that had known nothing but darkness for the longest time suddenly taking in the new colour of the world around them. 

'We're alive again, aren't we?' 

An ominous shadow suddenly fell upon their hearts, and the Feanorians jumped up as they felt the presence of one of the valar near to them. Maedhros winced again, unused to his body which he had abandoned so long ago before warning his family. 

'It is Namo. We had better run.' 

They ran, now the masters of their old forms, walking upon ground they were never meant to see again. 

* 

Elrond shuddered, far away in Imladris. The eight were come again, there was a feeling in his blood that told him so. 

_Elros, Elros, brother of mine, where are you when I need you the most?_   
  
__   



	21. Dreams and Nightmares

::Dreams and Nightmares:: 

Disclaimer: Don't own it, but I _want_ to own it! 

A/N: Explanations for the previous chapter are in order, hmm? Okay. There is a place across the Western sea called Aman, also known as the Blessed Isle, and within it contains this shiny, pretty, blissful city called Valinor. 

Only elves can go to **Aman**, with the one exception of Tuor, because he was heroic and stuff. 

In Aman, all the **big**, **powerful** people live, including the **Valar** (The biggest of the powerful beings on Aman), excluding the Ainur (what the Valar are, but there are others that are **Ainur** but _not_ Valar. Think about the theorem about a square being a rectangle but a rectangle not being a square. There are **NO** Ainur on Aman, because all the Ainur on Aman are called Valar.) and the **Maiar** (powerful, but not as powerful as the Anuir. One good example of a Maiar on Middle Earth is **Gandalf**) and lots of **elves**. Lots. 

Within the elves there are several races: **Vanya**, **Noldor**, **Teleri** etc. They are told most easily apart by hair colour. Vanyas' are fair headed, being usually **golden** haired (Glor!), and they love Aman the most. Whereas for the Noldor, they are the most hot tempered and fiery, and usually **black** or **brown** headed. Think Elrond. Teleri are best known as the **sea** faring type, think Cirdan there. Elves are rarely copper headed, the few exceptions being Amrod and Amras, sons of Feanor. 

As for the Valar, they are under the command of the Super Powerful Ultimate Being called **Eru** or **Illuvatar**. Yay! There are various Valar (male) and Valie (female), though as far as I know, Valar is still the collective term. 

**Manwe** Sulimo is the head, being most in contact with Eru, and his significant figures are the eagles. 

Manwe's wife is Elbereth/**Varda**, the Star Kindler, who, most obviously, created the stars and are loved by the elves for that. 

Under Manwe in power, I think, is **Ulmo**, Lord of the Waters. (I don't have my Silmarillion on me right now! Purist, don't murder!) Anyway, Ulmo, also the guy who is bugging Glorfindel in this fic, tends to meddle a bit more than the other valar. Yay. 

There's also Lorien/Irmo, the Maker of Dreams, Dreamweaver (NOT the computer programme). He is not an Aratar (the High Ones, the most powerful of the valar). 

Lorien's brother is Mandos/**Namo**, the guy who looks after the, most obviously, Halls of Mandos, where dead elves go. My theory here is that they get resurrected, as I take a educated guess from Tolkien and his HoME, and get to live happily ever after in Aman, unless of course, they did horrible, unforgivable things in the past, IE kill lots of their own kin for three sparkly jewels. 

There is also **Nienna**, the one who cries a lot for the grievances of the World.****

There is also **Orome**, the guy with the horn Valaroma and his horse.****

**Aule** is the smith and the one of the corrupted Maiar (heh. Silmarillion joke).****

**Yavanna**, the one who grows all the green stuff everywhere.****

**Vaire** is the weaver and not so important so that she is not an Aratar.****

**Este **is the healer of hurts, who is not an Aratar.****

**Tulkas** is the runner and **Nessa** the fleet footed both of whom are not counted as a Aratar because they are not important enough.****

**Melkor** decided to be naughty, so he isn't even a vala anymore. 

Right. Now that we are done with the important people, I explain the characters in the past chapter. 

Every one of the **elves** in that chapter, except for Elrond, were **dead**. They went to **Mandos**, where they were forced to realize all their sins and repent, yadda yadda. They **came out** sooner or later, **except for the Feanorians**, who were **not supposed** to be released because they were too naughty. **Ecthelion, Duilin, Legolas, Turgon, Tuor, Penlod, Egalmoth, Galdor and Rog **were all **Lords of Gondolin**, the place in the first few chapters were Glorfindel was before it got trampled down to the ground by the evil, evil orcs. **Ecthelion, Duilin, Legolas, Turgon, Penlod, Egalmoth, Galdor and Rog** were all assumed dead in this fic, then got themselves out of Mandos and came to live happily in **Aman.** **Tuor**, who was human, was **accepted by the Valar** as a Elf and came over the Aman and **will live forever**. **Lorien/Irmo** is the Dream Keeper and **Brother to Mandos/Namo**, thus was kind of annoyed that his brother was throwing a fit over the **Feanorians being revived** thus came over to enlist the help of the Gondolindrim for... _something._ **The Feanorians** were running away from **Mandos** because they didn't want to die after being dead. They **came back** because a LONG time ago, they made an oath to keep the Silmarilli, which **Feanor created** for themselves, and because of an elusive thing called **AU and Artistic Liberty**. Heh. 

There are **eight**_Feanorians.___

**Feanor **- The father and maker of the Silmarils****

**Maedhros -** Son.****

**Maglor -** Son.****

**Amrod/Amras -** Sons and twins.****

**Curufin -** Son.****

**Caranthir -** Son.****

**Celegorm -** Son. 

**Elros** is the twin brother of **Elrond**, who turned **human** and **died.** Elrond and Elros **a long time ago** got **taken in **by Maglor and Maedhros** after the sack of Sirion**. I think. Gah, too many names and places, so correct me if I'm wrong. Wheh. Okay, that was the Silmarillion in a peanut-shell for you. 

Get it? Probably not, but just waddle along, people... On to the fic! 

* 

Endless silence again permeated her dreams as Ren tossed and turned uneasily, her eyes still screwed shut in forced sleep and subconsciousness. For the longest of moments, all she saw, all she felt and all she was was the unending darkness and painful shards of cold that pierced through every fibre of her being and existence. 

_Cold, so cold.___

The moment dragged onwards, pulling her in through words of endless misery and hate, anger and revulsion and burning desire. Repentance was the word that wailed through the keening gale. Repentance and burden, duty and weight, visions imprinting themselves in her head, turning, spinning, revolving. Screaming. 

Ren woke with a start and a shout, her heart thumping wildly and her eyes, for a moment, crazed. It was there again, the same, nameless feeling that she had felt in the armoury. Glorfindel knew what it was, Ren was sure that he did, hidden somewhere in the depths of his mind where no one could find. She looked out of the window and noted that the red hues before dawn were just beginning to show when a knock sounded at the door. 

'Come in.' 

Ren was still trying to rid herself of the cold as she wrapped her blanket about her shoulders and saw Glorfindel come in through the door. He regarded Ren with a cool eye. 

'Im gimanin le.' [Sind. I heard you.] 

Ren only looked up at him and shuddered slightly from the cold that she felt. Her heart and her mind both felt somehow empty and hollow, even meaningless. Her face was now pale. 

'Erde foeg-om olor, Glorfindel, u-baur le tolo an im.' [Sind. Just a bad dream, Glorfindel, you need not come to me.] 

'Le u-thio min olori presto.' [Sind. You do not seem to be one a dream would affect.] 

'Min _um-olor_, Glorfindel.' [Sind. One _bad dream_, Glorfindel.] 

Glorfindel just looked at her, and Ren knew that he could see through her. Glorfindel was an elf reborn, not easily fooled or deceived by even the greatest of liars, and Ren was nowhere close to that in her state. The human shook her head as she clutched the blanket. 

'Nothing. Just nothingness, crashing waves, emptiness and cold. Cold.' 

Ren swore she almost saw Glorfindel start from his position at the door when she described her dream. The elf quickly moved over to her, caught her wrist and felt for the cold. Ren distinctly caught some rather unsavoury curse under his breath that included the words "Namo", "Irmo", "Ulmo", "dreams", "halls", "no peace", "stupid" and "crazy" in Quenya. Ren just pulled the blanket around her more tightly. Glorfindel slumped into a chair next to the bed and sighed. 

'It's about time you know who this invisible assailant of yours is, even though I would not have wanted to disclose it. I did not know you were of such importance in Illuvatar's plans.' 

Ren just sneezed quizzically. Glorfindel smirked slightly, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. 

'What you heard, saw and felt in your dreams were most probably a result of the combined efforts of the Valar Mandos, Lorien and Ulmo. Namo shakes in his rage, Lorien seeks to forewarn you of things to come and Ulmo places the burden of duty upon you.' 

Ren sighed as she dropped back onto her bed. 

'Any words of advice?' 

'Welcome to the club.' 

* 

Yvonne was bored. Yvonne did not like being bored. When Yvonne got bored, she got depressed, and Yvonne did not like getting depressed. Yvonne saw a penknife. Yvonne saw Legolas' unguarded bowstring. 

... 

Yvonne was most suddenly not very bored at all. 

* 

Legolas had only gone for a moment to converse with Lord Elrond over matters of the fellowship before returning to his rooms. Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Greenwood the Great and son of Thranduil most definitely had not expected to find his precious bowstring shredded into tiny pieces. Legolas Greenleaf suddenly felt very, very angry. Legolas Greenleaf suddenly spotted one of the human children he had heard of from Erestor outside his door, holding what looked like a retractable blade. Legolas Greenleaf went in for the kill. 

* 

Ren was twirling her penknife in her hands absently, wondering where on Enndore the kitchens could possibly have hidden themselves in the seemingly never ending corridors of Imladris when she heard a yell of rage from the approximate area of her right. Instinct told her to run. Her head decided to follow instinct, and so she fled down the nearest available corridor, only to run smack into Yvonne, who, surprise, surprise, was also carrying a penknife. 

Legolas looked in shock at the two humans in front of him. One with a penknife and... The other with a penknife. Who had done the unforgivable? 

Ren looked at the disfigured bowstring in Legolas' hands, and put two and two together. At the exact same time as Yvonne, she yelled, 

'She did it!' 


	22. Birds

::Differences:: 

Disclaimer: Diss the claimer! 

A/N: They're adding and subtracting and shifting our holidays, so I'm free for this week... More writing, then. Would like to say here and now that NONE of my characters know how to use weapons, and _none_ will learn how to wield one with deadly precision anytime soon. This is _entirely_ Mary Sue Free. 

* 

Diana sat in the midst of a perpetual ocean of books, reading, reading, reading and basically, well, reading. Books here, books there, books everywhere. There was, after all, nothing much left for her to do except sit around, drinking whatever came to her and hugging onto a silmaril the whole day. Why could they not just get _on_ with the scouting and come back to them? Diana sighed, and flipped another page. Very interesting, but little of what she had not heard or known beforehand. Diana knew snitching Peoples of Middle-Earth off Ren would be a good idea. Just as Diana was about to continue reading, something fell on the pile of books before her. 

_Not another one!_

'Si?!' 

Arrival number 8. Ding! The last official member for the Feanorian-Human group was set. 

* 

Ren ran as fast as she could away from Legolas, Yvonne trailing inches behind her. She ducked around a stunned elf, served a corner and found that she was heading for the library. The library was a dead end, the only other way out being either the staircase leading to Elrond's personal quarters, which was nearly always locked for reasons of privacy, or jumping out of the window. Ren fancied neither. Thankfully, the library was set in a circular mode. In the worst of situations, she could always try to run Legolas down, even though she knew it would only serve to buy her time. Elves were, after all, elves. Slamming her shoulder into the door to hurl it open, Ren barely managed to skid to a stop before stopping suddenly short. 

'Si? What on Earth are you doing-' 

Ren had no time to even finish her sentence, because one certain Yvonne tugged her urgently away as Legolas charged in. 

'Ren! I think we should _run_!' 

Ren took off while Yvonne hurled a hardcover at Legolas to give them the advantage of a few precious seconds. Ren decided they had better call in backup. Hollering, she yelled at the top of her voice, 

'Sara! Get yourselves over here! _Glor!_' 

The three proceeded to run around in never ending circles, with Legolas hefting his bow about and Silei wondering what was going on. Diana quickly pulled her out of the way of the rampaging trio, explaining all the way. Silei's smile grew. Oh, _fun!_

* 

Glorfindel stopped short, wondering where Sirithbrethil was when a yell drew him towards the library. Sara and gang were not far behind him, but the elf was faster. Panicking, he burst in through the door of the library, only to be pounced upon by a clearly rabid Prince Legolas, who was, in his blind rage, trying to behead the elda with an unstrung bow. 

'Daro! Saes, Thranduillion, _daro_! Sirithbrethil, man na rhoeg an Legolas si lúm?' [Sindarin: Stop! Please, Son of Thranduil, _stop_! Sirithbrethil, what is wrong with Legolas this time?] 

Ren was panting, trying to catch her breath as Yvonne collapsed down beside her. 

'Im u-ista, Glorfindel, thio nin mellon rhistont Legolas tang.' [I do not know, Glorfindel, seemingly my friend cut Legolas' bowstring.] 

Glorfindel was too busy to reply, as he grabbed Legolas' head to still him. 

'Legolas! Lasto beth nin, DARO!' 

Legolas stopped, the words of his mother tongue finally registering into his head. Ren was sitting in a corner, laughing at Silei's bewildered look, while Yvonne threw her penknife out of the window in order to rid herself of the evidence. Ren, noticing, discreetly followed suite. Glorfindel patted Legolas on the shoulder, and hauling the fellow elf up, sent him out of the door. 

'Sirithbrethil? Tolo.' [Come.] 

Ren gulped, then on second thought dragged Silei by the arm to Glorfindel. Glorfindel sighed. 

'Who is it this time?' 

The taller Silei sent Glorfindel a sceptical look. Ren sniggered, then ducked to avoid being whacked on the head by Silei. 

'Watch it!' 

Ren had to duck again, laughing. Glorfindel shook his head. Ren spoke up again. 

'Elrond?' 

Glorfindel sighed again. 

'Nin-mellon bronia lhong lom.' [Sindarin fig: My friend is under great stress.] 

Ren tossed the silmaril up and down, having conveniently wrapped and bound it to avoid any nasty incident and sighed as well. Glorfindel smiled softly, before continuing. 

'Sirithbrethil, treneri le mellyn toli. Im boe anni hain hatheli.' [Sindarin fig: Tell your friends to come. I have to give them arms.] 

Ren looked sceptically at Glorfindel. 

'U-iuith hatheli men.' [Sindarin fig: We cannot use arms.] 

'Le boe hain.' [Sindarin: You need them.] 

Even though Ren could not use a weapon to save her life, she smiled. Sara looked up at her expectantly. Ren just said simply, 

'Weapons!' 

Sara grinned evilly. Even Diana looked gleeful. Inez looked worried. The rest shrugged and followed the elf. 

* 

'Glorfindel, if I've told you once, I've told you a _million_ times. We. Cannot. Use. Arms!' 

The blond elf did not listen, instead taking a lengthy elven dagger off a wall holder and unsheathing the white hafted blade, which was curved slightly in typical Elvish make. The experienced elf swung it back and forth, twirled it around a bit and generally went about testing its balance. Satisfied, he gingerly placed a thumb to the blade, then nodded to himself as the blade almost bit through the skin. Sara was hopping around behind her in delight, but Ren had told her to shut up and not touch anything if she wanted one. Sara had promptly quietened. 

Ren leaned onto the wooden table usually used to polish blades in the guard barracks, drumming her fingers on the table. Glorfindel abruptly slammed the blade between her fingers. Ren winced, her fingers stilling. Glorfindel grinned predatorily, an alarmingly happy smile plastered on his face as he inspected the dent on the table. Ren drew her hand back slowly. 

'Bad form of stress management, Glorfindel.' 

Erestor walked in, smirking, and dumped a batch of newly fletched arrows into a basket.. The blond elda only smiled and sheathed the white dagger, passing it wordlessly to Ren. The human gaped at him. Glorfindel went back to the racks, beckoning Sara over. The shorter human gave a whoop of delight and scampered over. A few minutes later, she came back with a dagger, slightly shorter than Ren's and gilded around the hilts. In due course, Erestor and Glorfindel helped the humans acquire weapons. Daggers were the largest blades they could manage. Ren, though still doubtful about their being given weapons, had to admit a dagger would make her feel safer, especially if they were to go through Moria, in comparison to her flimsy penknife. 

* 

Elladan sat on the grass, laughing uproariously as he watched Glorfindel trying to tell a bunch of human kids how to attack with a blade without killing themselves first. Some could more or less manage past the first stage of Unsheathing, namely those who carried penknives around and used them commonly, for example Diana, Shu Wen, Sara and Ren, but others were less well off. They were more or less decent for their age, but that standard of skill was not going to get them through a quest. Ren sighed in exasperation, sheathing and unsheathing and sheathing again, as Glorfindel instructed. 

'I don't see how this is going to help. As far as I can tell, we whack them, see if they die, then run if they are still alive. Repeat.' 

Glorfindel sent her an icy glare. 

'Sirithbrethil, the matter of life and death is very serious. Sinte ta.' [Quenya: Realise that.] 

Glorfindel slipped back into his mother tongue of Quenya unconsciously, feeling rather frustrated. This was resembling the disaster of Gondolin slightly too much. An age of hurts was a bit much for him to take. Ren rolled her eyes anyway, falling into Quenya again as well. A couple of weeks in Rivendell had done her Elvish _some_ justice. 

'Ye, aira cano elda.' [Quenya: Yes, old commander elf.] 

Glorfindel whirled around to meet her eyes. Ren swallowed, but met his gaze. A sword tip wormed its way up to her neck. Glorfindel lowered his tone and slipped fully into Quenya, disguising the words from Diana and Silei, who knew bits and pieces of Sindarin. 

'Lasta nin, Sirithbrethil. Im uván termara tira nossenya lantana huinen. Mirya ne farea. Erin nin coi urya si. Navelan i uru, i nwalya, i _qualin. _Polinavelalye ta?' [Quenya: Listen to me, Sirithbrethil. I will not stand to see my people fall into darkness. Once was enough. The ruins of my life burn now. I can remember the burning, the fear, the _death_. Can you remember it?'] 

Ren quietened. 

'Edaved-im. I was out of place.' [Sindarin: I apologize.] 

Glorfindel just walked away. Silei turned to Ren, recognizing the Sindarin. 

'What was that all about?' 

'Old memories.' 

* 

The humans were shifty and nervous that night as they sat in the Hall of Fire. The next day, they would depart. Glorfindel, alongside the Twins, had managed to educate the use of a blade efficiently enough so as to ensure that the humans would not die immediately in the face of attack. Well, at least not _immediately_. None of them could call their skills all that passable yet, but then again, neither could many of the _perian. _Ren found herself taking comfort in that. 

* 

The Next Day... Dun dung dung dun! 

* 

Ren shifted anxiously from one foot to another as they waited to depart. Sam was muttering something to Bill the Pony, Frodo was fiddling with the Ring and Merry and Pippin were talking amongst themselves. Aragorn was in quiet conversation with his foster father, and Mithrandir spoke in low tones with Erestor, Galdor and Glorfindel. Boromir made what conversation he could with Legolas, and many of Ren's company merely lingered around uncertainly. They were, of course, a separate group from the Fellowship, but the two groups would be travelling the same route up until Lothlorien. By then, they would have met up with Gildor of the Wandering Company, added Haldir on and would split off in a South-westerly direction, to Greenwood to come in contact with Thranduil. Ren was unsure of the last bit. Thranduil, after all, was needed for the Flushing of Dol Guldur later in the book. She consoled herself with the fact that there were more than enough elves around in Mirkwood to fill Thranduil's place, and the matter would simply be solved when they came to it. The human shifted around again, the weapon at her waist feeling strangely foreign. 

* 

They were on the move. The company moved accordingly in this manner: Gandalf and Aragorn in the front, with Boromir behind them, then the hobbits and humans in the centre with Legolas and Galdor. Glorfindel and Erestor held the back. They had crossed the Ford, and were now moving off the Road. The way was uncomfortable and cold, the thorn bushes pricking them in their sleep and the heartless wind chasing them as they walked. After a further fortnight, they finally came to Hollin and the Rocks. It felt slightly odd, Ren considered, for they were following Movie-Verse for scenes shown, and yet they alternated back to Book-Verse from time to time. Yet still, everything was going according to plan, so the humans shut up. Finally, they arrived at the large rocks, where they stopped. Ren carefully chose a spot well hidden away from sight to collapse into. The other humans followed suit, and even though the remaining members of the company found it odd, they did not comment. 

Sara sighed, tossing her dagger from one hand to another in boredom as she watched Boromir getting flattened by Merry and Pippin. Yvonne landed herself beside her. The two watched the three madmen fight amongst themselves. On the other side of a pile of rocks, Silei, Shu Wen, Diana and Ren conversed. Ren was swearing savagely, as was her wont. 

'_Crebain_. They're due any moment.' 

'Green-boy is on watch.' 

'I can barely wait for the screeching to come.' 

'We should have paid more attention to book verse.' 

'Yes. "Always listen to a Ranger, especially if that Ranger is Aragorn." Too late now, I suppose.' 

'We will be found out, one way or the other.' 

'We cannot meddle. This is not our business. The plot must remain.' 

Silent nods were passed around. As if on cue, there was a shout. 

'_Crebain _from Dunland and Fangorn! Hide!' 

The humans did not need to move. They had taken the time to conceal themselves well. Diana sighed as the screeching overhead roared around. 

'And now for Caradhras.' 

Shu Wen shook her head. 

'And then for Moria.' 

Ren shadowed her eyes and muttered darkly. 

'And the the Balrog.'   
  



	23. Moria

::Moria:: 

Disclaimer: Diss the claimer! 

A/N: This chapter is half Book-Verse, half Movie-Verse, so you might get lost in the beginning. Plus, it is rather boring, since my sense of humour seems to be taking a holiday. There are bits of laughter, though, but not as much as usual. 

* 

Wordlessly, the humans exited from their hole in the rocks. Gandalf shook his head, defeated. 

'The Gap of Rohan will be monitored against us. We must take an alternative route.' 

The maia turned towards the towering presence of Caradhras. Ren sighed for the hundredth time, and the group began to trudge up the mountain. Silly mountain. 

* 

Snow. Snow. Snow. Wind. Snow. More snow. Ren swore silently to herself that if she ever saw snow again after this, she would run away as fast as she could. The amount of flaked ice everywhere was driving her to the brink. _Stupid snow,_ she thought as she kicked a mound hard, only to fall through a drift. Silei tumbled in after her, having stood behind her in the line. Shu Wen and Inez crashed in as well. All four netballers muttered something about potholes and mud before hauling themselves onward. Glorfindel, Erestor, Galdor and Legolas were all being most unhelpful, treading upon the snow as if they weighed nothing. Ren muttered another savage curse as the wind bit at them. 

'My hands are _freezing._' 

Silei just plodded along, nodding in agreement. Ren found the snow getting deeper still. 

'We'll be buried alive. We need to get closer to the mountain, where the snow is firmer.' 

Ren proceeded to try and pull herself nearer to the mountainside, but the snow just shifted like sand beneath her hands and legs. Glorfindel came over to pull them up. Ren cursed again, brushing what snow she could off herself. Diana was partially submerged in the drift already, Sara being no better off as the two shortest people of the human company sank. Glorfindel had to pull them out too. Ren smiled ruefully as she realized they were going to follow Book-Verse. That was not a good sign, she decided, but decided not to open her mouth and worry those behind her further. Gandalf eventually called for a stop, as the lesser of the company had all but frozen. The humans looked positively blue, and the hobbits were white. Aragorn was bearing the snow quite well, as was Boromir, but the elves were by far the best off. 

'Not one strand off their pretty heads amiss, I suppose.' 

Ren muttered sarcastically under her breath, wiping long strands of fringe off her face and tucking them behind a ear. She sat on, big surprise, snow. The rest followed suit, and the group huddled together the best they could. Gandalf looked around and passed about a flask of _miruvor. _Ren paled. It was going in the _opposing_ direction from her, meaning that it went to Sara, then Yvonne, then Inez _then_ the Book-Versed people. Before Ren could say anything. the three who had not read the books had downed the liquid. _Oh crap._ Ren nudged Silei, who nudged Diana. Shu Wen was already half-way through her mouthful, having forgotten what _miruvor_ was. Ren stuttered through the cold. 

'Glor?' 

The elf looked up. 

'Glorfindel, please tell me that isn't _miruvor_.' 

The elf shrugged, drinking a mouthful out of his own flask, gifted to him by Elrond. 

'It is, why do you-. Oh Elbereth. Oh, _oh Eru_!' 

Seeing Glorfindel's reaction, Ren knew they were in for trouble. The human lunged for the flask and snatched it away from Shu Wen before she could drink anymore of the fluid. More accurately, the _alcohol_. Ren passed it back to Gandalf. 

'That stuff is _alcohol_ guys. Gandalf just gave thirteen year olds _alcohol_.' 

Too late. Sara was already grinning absently and Yvonne had collapsed into mindless giggles. Inez had just gone red all over, and way swaying dangerously from side to side. Shu Wen spat what was left in her mouth down the mountainside. Ren cursed savagely again, and rubbed her arms. Nothing to warm them. Boromir, on cue, suggested, 

'What about a fire?' 

Gandalf knew he would have to do something. The humans could not be left to freeze. Gimli had tried flint and tinder, but to no avail. Gandalf sighed and thrust his staff at a faggot of wood and muttered a word of command. The wood burst into blue and green flames and Gandalf muttered about being able to be seen now by enemy eyes. Sara stared at the fire, transfixed. 

'Lookit all the pretty _colours!_' 

Ren shook her head in dismay. Her friends were drunk. They thus passed the night in that manner, until Caradhras stopped the flurry of snow. 

* 

The next morn saw Legolas and Erestor leave off to go "find the Sun", while the rest of the group sat huddled together. The three who had drunk the _miruvor_ were complaining of hangovers, and to be truthful, Ren felt a headache of her own coming on. Her hands were so cold they nearly froze. After an hour, the elves returned, and the Men in the company began to dig them out of the igloo they were in. Caradhras had beaten them, Ren knew, as the group trudged down the path made by Aragorn and Boromir, and Moria now awaited them. They progressed down and off the mountain, and towards Dimrill Gate. 

* 

The Company sat at the fire, wordless. They were following Book-Verse now, Ren knew. It was not good. Book-Verse was, if possible, worse than Movie-Verse in terms of the stuff they had to battle against. And so that night, the werewolves came, just as they were expected to have come. Legolas loosed his bow, Erestor doing the same, while Glorfindel shone with a bright light, becoming again the Glorfindel of Aman. Ren muttered something about being a "lighthouse" as the humans and _perian_ grouped together at the centre, away from the action. Ren wanted part of the action, but she knew better than to try and commit suicide by doing something so stupid. Instead, she just clutched the hilt of her dagger, and the humans who were taller than the hobbits circled the outside, occasionally having to deal out slashes to keep wolves that got out of the protective circle the more experienced fighters made at bay. It continued in a normal fashion until Gandalf cried aloud. 

'_Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth! _Fire against the werewolf host!'__

Everything broke down for the wolves under the power of Gandalf, as the trees danced with flame and blades shone and flickered. Arrows burst into flames as they were released and the company thus drove the wolves away. 

The next morning, arrows were found undamaged on the ground. Gandalf said it was because the wolves were Werewolves. Ren just thought Legolas was a bad shot. 

The Book-Verse was becoming scarily real. On second thought, though, as Ren saw it, it meant that things were going along to Plot, which was definitely a good thing. Then again, heading to Moria was _not_ a good thing in her standards. But there they were. 

* 

Ren barely remembered what happened at the Gate of Moria: Everything went far too swiftly. Bill the Pony was let loose, and just as Frodo asked for the word _mellon_, all hell broke loose. Tentacles were everywhere, silmarilli were being chased, the One Ring was sought after, and a lot of dangerous weaponry was being tossed about. Sara, finally having her slice of action, hacked gleefully away at a tentacle that came too close to her. Her strokes, though crude, proved effective, and the Watcher seemed to want to evade her, much to the dismay of the bloodthirsty human. Ren, Diana and Shu Wen were having hard times, as the Watcher seemed to have found something amiss and chased after them. It might have sensed the silmarilli, or it might just have been hungry. _Really, really _hungry. Glorfindel and Erestor took after the humans, acting as keepers and chopping off whatever wandering tentacle came their way, while Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas defended the hobbits. Galdor and Gandalf herded everyone into the darkness while Gimli took care of any last bits of Watcher that tried to follow. Then, just as Inez dove into Moria, the walls crumbled into nothingness. 

Gimli took a look around and started sobbing melodramatically, which earned him a smack on the head by Diana. The dwarf promptly shut up, but looked around muttering things like "Uncle Mor", "Great-uncle-thrice-removed-Thor" and "Fifty-ninth nephew Firi" every couple of seconds. 

* 

The journey through Moria, as it turned out, was actually quite entertaining. Yvonne kept on finding reasons to "accidentally" pull Legolas' hair, claiming that she thought it was a handhold, while Sara and Inez ganged up to try and pester Aragorn by dropping comments about Arwen whenever he was in earshot. Ren kept silent most of the time, but was more prone to following Glorfindel around. To be truthful, it was _very_ easy for anyone to follow Glorfindel around in the darker passages, much to the elda's annoyance. For some reason, maybe because of his rebirth or him seeing the Two Trees, the elf lord _glowed in the dark_. A soft white light was emitted from about him, and even though it made him look rather intimidating, Ren had hung around him long enough not to care. He was, after all, a very useful torch light when Gandalf's staff only did so much. The arrangement was altered slightly to place Glorfindel nearer the front. The maia at the front kept asking Eru to try and "dim" Glorfindel slightly, much to Erestor's amusement. The black haired noldo had little difficulty blending into the darkness, but that alone caused Diana to keep ramming into him by accident. Galdor stuck to Legolas, too afraid of the humans to go close. Sara took delight in torturing him, too. Gimli was too busy lamenting "Pet Dog Raphly" to care. Silei was poking fun at Gandalf's beard, while the hobbits trailed around after her, trying to see if the new human had any mushrooms. 

Everything was going, quite surprising, fine save for Gollum, until they reached the Chamber of Mazarbul. Gimli abruptly burst into tears again, bemoaning Balin this time around, while Gandalf read the Book. Everything most suddenly switched into Movie-Verse. 

_Bangle bangle bong poink.___

There went the skeleton. Pippin was in _so_ much trouble.   
  
  
_Doom doom boom doom doomdoomboom_. 

Those orcs really, _really_ needed to get a better drum, thought Inez the Drummer. Ren was thinking alongside the same lines, if it had not been for the fact that she was too busy helping Shu Wen help bar the doors with Aragorn and Boromir. Legolas stood in factory line format, passing the four axes. Glorfindel was positively delighted to have some orc flesh to vent his anger on, and the blade of Gondolin shined in the gloom. Gimli was burning for vengeance, and everyone else just armed themselves. Sam accidentally pulled out a frying pan instead of a dagger, but it was slightly too late when the doors burst open and orcs flooded in. 

This time, the humans were all to themselves. Ren tried to brace herself, but nothing could really brace her for the orc attack. Unconsciously, she ran backwards slightly, pulling her friends with her, and let the front line take the brunt first. Better alive than dead. Strong as the front may have been, though, there were too many orcs. Ren soon found her dagger buried in orc flesh. The human decided she did not want to know if the orc was alive or dead, or even where the blade had ended up in the first place. Tugging it out with all her might, she ran off to help her friends. 

The Cave Troll made its mighty entrance all too soon, Ren thought as she rubbed her shoulder where the blunt end of an orc spear had whacked her. She had managed to nick off seven to eight orcs, pulling her friends with her, and they congregated at one end of the chamber, finding killing in unison a much more effective technique, shielding those too scared or queasy to fight and lowering risks of behind hit from behind. Silei kicked an orc off to the side as they moved out of the way of a rampaging cave troll, with Legolas on top of it. Glorfindel was merrily slicing through the orcs like a knife through butter, glowing brighter than ever before, and Erestor sniped from a higher position, picking off any orcs trying to take an subtle approach to back stab people. Frodo cried out in pain from a corner, and Ren knew that the cave troll had done its job. 

'Run!' 

She cried, pulling her friends away from the centre of the chamber where the troll was to fall. Sara dallied to try and hack at an orc, but Erestor took it out first. The human's swing had gone completely off anyhow. As the troll finally fell to Legolas' arrow, Ren breathed a sigh of relief. All in her company were alive, though all were also bruised and beaten. Some had been grazed by swords and arrows, others hit by staves or the wrong end of Sam's Incredible Frying Pan. The hobbit beat anybody who came near him, regardless of friend or foe. 

They had too little time to dwell on injuries though, as Gandalf commanded them to run. They stopped in the middle of the Goblin Horde as they fled. Gandalf sighed as Sam asked what was behind them. 

'This foe is beyond any of you-' 

Gandalf stopped and sighted Glorfindel. 

'Well, most of you at any rate. Run!' 

They ran. Well, if you could call the half-limping, half-dragging of bodies running. 

They ran down stairs, across stone over lava, and finally pass the bridge and Frodo's little tilting-stair scare. Gandalf bade them stop at the other end. 

'A balrog of Morgoth!' 

Ren knew what was flashing through Glorfindel's mind. 

'Grab him!' 

The humans proceeded to pull Glorfindel back before the elda tried anything stupid. He struggled like a madman, er, Elf, against them, but Ren tried a different tactic. She pulled out a string out of her pocket and hastily tied a stone to the end. It was a ridiculous ploy, but it would keep Glorfindel otherwise occupied for the time being. 

'Look at the stone, Glorfindel_. You no longer want to kill Balrogs_.Repeat after me: _Yooooooou doooooo nottttt waaaaanttt tooooo killllll balllrogggggs!_' 

Glorfindel gritted his teeth and renewed his efforts, trying to head the stone out of his line of vision. 

'I _want_ to kill balrogs! Get off me!' 

'This is not your fight, Glorfindel. Can't you act like a normal elf and _run away?_' 

'You've fought one balrog, you've fought a hundred! Let me _go!_' 

Glorfindel tried to get free. Ren decided it was time to try a different form of hypnotism. She uncovered a small bit of her silmaril. 

'Come on, Glorfindel. _Follow the pretty jewel!_' 

Glorfindel, tried to shut his eyes against the tempting silmaril, but Sara took delight in forcing them open again. Somewhere in the background, Gandalf was shouting something along the lines of "you shall not pass". Glorfindel shouted. 

'You plagiarized that off me, you fool maia!' 

The silmaril came back into his line of sight. Glorfindel relented. 

'Fine, I won't fight, just _get that thing away from me!_' 

Ren grinned and let off. Inez was shaking in anger as she watched Gandalf fall into the pits of flame. Frodo let out a keening wail that left all of the elves wincing. 

'GANDALF!' 

One down. Ren hoped Gandalf was having a nice flight. That ledge would make, she considered, a brilliant bungee jumping spot. 


	24. Minions of Lorien

::Denizens of Lothlorien:: 

Disclaimer: Yes, I give... 

A/N: lotrmatrixstarwarsfan: Yep, I'm a fellow GEP student. I'm from the white blackhole of Nanyang. You? Thank you muchly for the review. Anyway, on to the notes: I'm excessively bored, and my sense of humour is too. Anyhow, some clearing up: This is one quarter Movie-Verse, three quarters Book-Verse and very AUish. Bah. 

* 

Inez tottered out of Moria, stunned and dazed. Gandalf was dead, gone, kapish. Her favourite character had been done in by a not-very-furry ball of flame. The reality of the situation was hard to accept, but it was true. The maia was gone. _He'll be back_, Inez thought mournfully to herself, _but he'll be back too late._ The company was at a loss, loitering about without knowing what to do. Aragorn sighed grimly, pulling Frodo up, but the hobbit just crumpled bonelessly down again when the Ranger let go. Sam was beating his head with the flat of his frying pan repeatedly. 

'We cannot linger. We must go to Lothlorien.' 

The group, now one member short, began the trek to Laurelindorenan. Legolas was already trilling something about "fair Nimrodel", and Ren was beginning to wonder if she should push him into the said river when they reached it to spare the company the practically intolerable screeching. 

* 

Glorfindel sniggered to himself as he ducked behind a tree. Haldir o Lorien was about, the elda could feel it. Erestor and Galdor shared looks with him, and the three split off in different directions. Ren had no time to find out where they had gone, for Gimli was boasting about how he had the most acute senses of them all. Seconds later, she could hear arrows being drawn back, and Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlorien stepped arrogantly into view. Sara cursed. The blond archer smirked in a most infuriating manner, looking condesendingly at the Company. 

'The dwarf breathes so loud we could have- _arggh_!' 

Haldir had the shock of his life as the flat of Glorfindel's blade tapped his shoulder lightly, and the elda had to duck to avoid behind beheaded by the shocked Marchwarden when Haldir spun around, sword drawn. Rumil and Orophin similarly were disarmed by Erestor and Galdor, who had slipped quietly past the stunned guards. Glorfindel grinned at Haldir. 

'Haldir o Lorien. Mae govannen.' 

Haldir's face fell. His fun had been spoilt by a balrog-slayer. These elda were really no good to work with. Galadriel turned green every few days, blaming it on static electricity, and Glorfindel went about humiliating guards at the wrong moments. Haldir frowned. They were all ecentric, those Eldar. 

'Glorfindel.' 

With a wave of his hand, Haldir commanded his guard to put down their weapons, and Ren finally breathed freely as the arrow was removed from the vicinity of her neck. Yvonne had already gone cross eyed from staring at the shaft that was pointed between her eyes for too long. Haldir shook his head about, clearing his muddled thoughts, then said, 

'Come. I will lead you to the Lady of the Wood.' 

Ren gulped as she allowed herself to be led off. Mind reading daughters of Finarfin were definitely not fun. 

* 

'Book-Verse! Why on Earth do we have to follow the Book _now_ of all times?!' 

Ren swore for the umpteenth time as they approached the banks of the Silverlode. Haldir had tied the rope across the banks and was proceeding to show off his rope walking skills by jumping up and sprinting across, then running back again. Legolas sighed appreciatively, eyeing Gimli with visible contempt. 

'The elves in the company can walk this bridge, but what of the others?' 

Haldir fixed another rope on at shoulder level and one more halfway down. 

'They will cling to this.' 

Shu Wen stared at Haldir as if he had gone mad, then stared at the three ropes which were going to be their way across the swift running river. Inez muttered under her breath. 

'Shah! Fool elf.' 

Glorfindel complacently walked across first, followed by Legolas, then Erestor and Galdor. Aragorn followed cautiously, making note not to look down. Boromir snaked across after him. Gimli grumbled as the rope sank slightly under his weight, but grudgingly pulled himself painstakingly across, his heavy books balancing precariously on the sturdy but narrow length of rope. Ren muttered unsavoury things about wood elves as she lugged her way over, nearly toppling as Sara tried to shake the line. Sara had her own difficulties as Ren shook the line from the east bank. Glorfindel glared at her and she stopped, but was secretly happy, for Sara was stuck in the middle waiting for the rope to stop shaking. Somehow or another, they made their way across, and were now on the way up to the Land of the Thousand Stairs, as Diana had aptly named it. 

* 

'Twenty five thousand, nine hundred and fifty nine, twenty five thousand, nine hundred and sixty...' 

Silei was bored, counting the steps as she climbed up the seemingly never ending path to the talan. Erestor shook his head, counting in elvish. Ren just sullenly numbered the steps mentally. Sara went around pulling hair and generally annoying people, while Gimli nearly broke each stair as he pounded up. Finally, at "twenty six thousand, four hundred and eighty two", the company reached the Royal Talan. Ren sighed in relief, but the relief was short lived as they came to Galadriel. She wished she had taken the shortcut to Valinor with Manwe, Varda and Earendil, but it was far too late. Celeborn, all silverish and most mysterious, spoke. 

'Nineteen there were that set out from Rivendell, but only eighteen now remain. Where is Gandalf the Grey, for I much desire to speak with him.' 

Galadriel went all spooky and farsighted. 

'He has fallen into shadow.' 

Glorfindel spoke his own. 

'It was a balrog of Morgoth. He copied my example.' 

Galadriel shot him a quelling look, but Glorfindel, having faced Mandos, valar and other atrocities, did not flinch away from the gaze. Galadriel tossed a lock of hair haughtily over a shoulder, miffed at being unable to intimidate a follow elda into quavering submission. Erestor wisely tried to keep his mind blank. Ren, knowing how useless it would be to try and think of "nothing", kept repeating a mental mantra of "Elves are good, elves are great" in her mind to throw Galadriel off. The fiery elf needed not know about what she knew, and Ren decided that she needed not be squashed under the anger of Galadriel like a fly under Aule's hammer. Gimli was busy gaping at the shiny hair, which reminded Diana scarily of Feanor. Celeborn harrumphed loudly to catch everyone's attention, then turned to glare the Stare of Doom at Haldir. 

'Why did no news come to me beforehand?' 

The silver haired elf lord was obviously jealous of his wife, her Ring and that dratted mirror of hers. 

Legolas smoothly interjected. 

'We spoke of nothing to Haldir.' 

Galadriel smiled a smirk of complacency while Celeborn sulked. Solemnly, she intoned. 

'The Quest stands upon the edge of a knife,' 

Ren and gang were silently mouthing along with her, 

'Stray but a little, and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet there is hope, while company remains true.' 

Glorfindel looked ruefully at Ren, decidedly thinking that if he were on the Quest and Ren had to come along, they would all surely die. The smirk on Galadriel's face grew larger as she monitored everyone with her christmas tree lighted eyes. 

'Do not let yourselves be troubled: Tonight, you shall sleep in peace.' 

Celeborn, ever eager for his share of the limelight, followed up. 

'Go now, for you are worn with toil and much sorrow. Now rest awhile within our city.' 

Galadriel stepped subtly on Celeborn's foot, causing him to shut up. Flashing a brilliant but fake smile, she said, 

'Those on the Quest may leave. Glorfindel, tell your company to stay.' 

Galadriel looked slightly too happy at having some people to torture. Ren wanted to scream as the Fellowship shuffled off the talan, leaving the remaining ten members of the Silmarilli Fellowship stranded on Galadriel's battle ground. Haldir tried to edge off, but one glance from Galadriel stilled his movements. 

'_Haldir_!', the noldo said in a fake tone, 'I have a matter of _utmost_ importance that involves you.' 

'Me, my lady?' 

'Yes, _you_. Now get over here.' 

* 

Two Hours Later 

* 

'So, in summary, I wish you all the best of luck, and accept Haldir as our envoy to aid you in this arduous task.' 

Galadriel beamed, satisfied that she had been able to deliver a long and emotional speech. Glorfindel's eyes were unfocussed in what looked like Elven sleep while still standing, evidence of his experience at evading guard duty, while Erestor's head was resting on a branch, soft snores coming out of his mouth. Galdor was sprawled on the talan floor, curled up in a foetal position with Inez and Shu Wen using him as a back support while they, too, slumbered. Ren was swaying on her feet, trying to stop herself from falling asleep, while Sara yawned for the three thousandth time that minute. Silei was absently twirling an arrow that Diana had snitched out of Haldir's quiver between her fingers while Diana had fallen victim to sleep, half draped over a branch. Yvonne was busy playing with Haldir's hair as he slept. Celeborn was sleeping in his chair. Galadriel, however, was oblivious. 

'Well, that will be all for this short session.' 

Everyone seemed to snap awake at those words. Erestor came up with the excuse that they were weary and wanted to rest, and Haldir was all too quick to volunteer himself to lead the group to their respective _telain_. Within seconds, the Royal Talan was evacuated, and the crickets could clearly be hear chirping in the background. Seconds later, there was a yelp as Celeborn got the end of Galadriel's temper. 

* 

Ren groggily got up to the sound of Glorfindel's voice trying to get her to wake up. The hour was a most ungodly one, being neither morning nor night, and the blackness only enhanced Lothlorien's ethereal glow. The human did not feel like moving at that point in time, and was determined to stay abed for at least two hours yet. Groaning, she shifted away from the elf, who was crouched down next to her. There was what looked like fear in his eyes, but Ren owed that optical illusion to her barely awake state of mind. 

'Whassat? I'm sleepy. Goway.' 

The elf poked her in the side in an effort to get her to wake up properly, obviously as determined to get her up as she was determined to stay asleep. Ren just rolled over onto her side. Glorfindel tugged at her braid insistently. Ren finally sat up, exasperated to the extreme and glaring at the elda. 

'This had better be a matter of imminent emergency, Glor, or I can assure you that you will be in extreme pain for the next century or so.' 

Glorfindel looked impassively at her for a moment, then dragged her away from the talan and down the rope ladder wordlessly. Ren fumbled her way down somehow, still half asleep. Glorfindel took a look left, then right, then ducked behind the tree, disguising his voice, mixing English with Sindarin and befuddling Ren. The human wondered why the usually self-assured elda was acting so jumpy. 

'Sirithbrethil, le mellyn have done something very,_ very_ disturbing. I fear for our lives.' [Sindarin: Your friends] 

'What now? Surely it cannot be _that_ serious.' 

'Hain nestegi some form of bubble water into Galadriel's mirror.' [Sindarin: They put] 

There was a pause. 

'Glor...?' 

'Yes?' 

'I have a question.' 

'What?' 

'Can we run?' 

* 

Sara and Yvonne were doing some fairly unmentionable things to the Mirror. Sara was pounding and grinding flaked soap into a mushy substance, which she then diluted with water and stirred to make a veritable soapy liquid, which she poured into the Mirror. Yvonne was tying her portable electronic hand-held fan to the side of the Mirror, the plastic blade of the fan dipping halfway into the water. The fan was the kind where the blades were made out of a fairly sturdy plastic, which was attached to a rounded head which was then attached to the main, small rectangular body of the fan which encased the motor. When Sara poured the last of the liquid in, Yvonne gleefully switched the battery powered fan on. The effect was disastrous and instantaneous. The fan churned the water most effectively, and within seconds water was flying everywhere and a build up of foam and bubbles had appeared. Shaking hands, the two crept off into the night. A minute passed, and the foam started to overflow... 

* 

Ren cursed under her breath as she and Glorfindel snuck down to the glade where Galadriel kept her mirror, watching in horror as the whirr of an electronic motor gurgled and spat water about. Bubbles were everywhere, and foam had all but flooded the entire glade. Glorfindel stopped short when he saw the sight. Ren's face went pale. 

'We are all going to die.' 

The place was in an absolute mess. Glorfindel had no choice but to pull Ren down into the glade with him in an effort to start recovery works. The elda swiped foam off his hair, looking around to make sure no one was about. 

'We have to clean this mess up before Artanis finds out.' 

Then, just as Ren placed a hand on the fan to turn it off, Galadriel entered the glade. 


	25. Levitation

::Doubtless?:: 

Disclaimer: Bite me, my friend. Lyrics a la Janet Jackson, Son of a Gun. 

A/N: Pay back is _hell_, mon ami. I'm in a sadistic mood today. This chapter is kind of unrealistic... Haha. 

* 

Ren and Glorfindel both decided to talk at the same time. 

'We didn't do it!' 

Galadriel was beginning to turn a peculiar shade of green... Ren quickly snapped the switch and grabbed the fan, still dripping, to pull it out of the mirror. Galadriel exploded, turning white, then green. 

'**Put the object down**.' 

Ren complied. Sara Ang burst into the scene, followed by Yvonne. The girl grinned, putting on a fake whine. 

'Fo! How _could_ you?' 

Ren sent her friend a glare worthy enough to freeze Orodruin over. Yvonne just jumped up and down, laughing and clapping. Ren threw the fan at her, ignoring the pulsating static ball of light that was Galadriel. The girl ducked. 

'Oof!' 

Everyone turned, to see Celeborn's hair ensnared in the turning blades of the fan, which had evidently jerked back to life on the way. The silver hair was being nastily entangled, and Celeborn ran off screaming. Everybody stalled. Galadriel floated in the middle of the clearing, ominously glaring at Ren, then Sara, then Yvonne and then Glorfindel. Ren stood, waist high in foam, hair everywhere and looking distinctly sleep deprived. Glorfindel rolled his eyes, but the effect was rather spoilt by the amount of foam that had gathered at the top of his head. Sara smiled indulgently, and Yvonne went screaming after Celeborn to try and retrieve her fan. Galadriel turned to Ren. The girl ran, the Silmaril in her hand shining brightly. 

_I bet you think this song is about you...___

Galadriel took off after her, followed by Glorfindel. Sara stopped to consider her options, then raced after the two eldar elves and her friend. 

_Don't you?___

Galadriel was sending sparks about, illuminating the area as she ran about. 

_Don't you?___

Glorfindel was shouting something unpleasant in Quenya at Galadriel, telling her to stop and stop causing the trees about her to burst into shimmering firmament. That, of course, was riddle with various obscenities. 

_Don't you?___

Sara yelled at Ren to run faster, which was something the human at the head instinctively knew. Galadriel was not named Nerwen, Man Maiden, for nothing. 

_Greedy, greedy, greedy try to get the cake and eat it too...___

Ren ducked past Haldir as he came over, trying to figure out why the talan where the rest of the girls had been staying in had suddenly burst into blue and purple sparks and _why_ Lord Celeborn was yelling all over Lorien. 

_You're so vain... I bet you think this song is about you...___

Galadriel's eyes burnt black as she literally levitated after Ren, her power sending Haldir flying as the Marchwarden scampered out of her path. Her wrath was great indeed. 

_Don't you?___

Glorfindel had to use some of his own power from Aman to prevent himself from being thrown back by Nenya's power as he chased after Artanis, beginning to glow in his own right and wrath. 

_Don't you? Don't you?___

Sara could probably have followed the running people in front of her with her eyes closed. The blinding light was _everywhere_, and Lorien was slowly being lit up. She took a left and went back to the camp to warn the others. 

_I bet you think this song is about you... I bet you think this song is about you...___

Erestor was roughly shaken awake by Sara and the rest of the group. Silei was already running off to the right, and Shu Wen had been dispatched to the left. Sara waved a hand rapidly in front of his face. 

'What is going on?' 

Erestor finally realized the camp was glowing. 

'Galadriel. Glorfindel. Ren. Mirror. Bubbles. Angry. Not good.' 

Erestor took that summary pretty well and jumped up, trying to shake a couple of sparks off. 

'Where is-' 

Erestor's question was answered in advance as Celeborn sprinted pass, his hair jumping up and down, severely entangled, and Yvonne clutching one lock. 

'Nevermind. Come, we must stop this madness.' 

_Don't you?___

Glorfindel finally came close enough, and the golden haired elf welled up as much power as he could and threw himself at Galadriel. The effect was rather stunning. 

_Don't you?___

Valar sent power and Nenya did not mix well, as Ren soon found out. As Glorfindel crashed into Galadriel, the clearing they were in practically imploded in light. Glorfindel was only told apart from Galadriel because he, unlike the Lady of Lothlorien, did not shoot green sparks everywhere. Ren was pulled back in the vacuum. 

_Don't you?___

Galadriel drew on her own, long dormant power as a First Born, glowing even brighter as Glorfindel landed on top of her. The two began to float as their powers repelled each other while their physical forms clung determinedly to one another. Ren was inevitably pulled into the power struggle, the Silmaril in her hand having enough will and draw of its own to cause chaos. 

_This song is about you...___

Glorfindel decided it was time to express his position as a First Born, Valar Sent Re-born Balrog Slayer who had Returned From The Dead and an Elf who had come from Aman. Drawing what resistance against Galadriel's own Nenya fuelled abilities, Glorfindel shone even brighter, turning a blue-ish green as Ulmo tried to help him out a little. Ren only added to the living light bulb they formed. 

_Son of a gun.___

'Gah! Put me _down_!' 

Ren started cursing rather inventively in Quenya as a crowd gathered around. Silei, who reached the glade first, was temporarily thrown back as the implosion threw itself outwards. The tallest of the humans cursed and worked her way forward, wishing she had sunglasses. Shu Wen charged in seconds later. 

'Síla quáci [Quenya: Shining crows], put me _down_!' 

Silei jumped and grabbed one of Galadriel's legs, only to be pulled upwards. Shu Wen clung to Silei's shoes as her friend floated upwards. 

'Help us!' 

* 

Erestor ran towards the area that was now glowing rather _too_ brightly for comfort, dragging Galdor with him. The two gasped as they saw what was going on. Glorfindel and Galadriel were at the top, floating around three quarters the height of a mallorn tree, both trying to pull each others hair out while Ren shouted and cursed in every language she knew in-between them. Silei was desperately holding on to Galadriel's leg while Shu Wen was dangerously high up. Haldir ran in, holding two lengths of rope and a rope ladder, and the three elves got to work. Erestor grabbed Shu Wen's foot, then with Haldir's help, bound it and tied it around the base of a mallorn to prevent the group from floating towards Ithil. 

'Hold on!' 

Shu Wen shouted back. 

'What do you think I'm doing?' 

Galdor looked up dubiously, calculating the odds of them falling any time soon. Erestor poked him. 

'You're from the Grey Haven's, my friend, surely you have experience in climbing the Crow's Nest. Galdor looked at him for a second, then ran up to Shu Wen. Haldir threw another length of rope upwards, which Ren caught. The force field she was trapped in prevented her dropping. 

'Hold on to that! Galdor will use it to support himself!' 

Ren looked down. 

'Are you mad?!' 

Glorfindel continued to claw at Galadriel. 

Too late. Galdor had gripped the rope and was beginning the ascent. Shu Wen gasped as her shoulder was stepped on, albeit very lightly, and Silei's foot was trodden on in return. Galdor yanked the rope, and Ren pulled him up the best she could. The perilous balancing act continued as Ren supported Galdor's feet as he clambered up again. The elf managed to get up high enough to sit of Glorfindel's shoulders, kicking Galadriel as she tried to scratch him. The elf threw the rope ladder upwards, and the hook at the end caught a branch and unfurled all the way down to the ground. Galdor quickly got on and shimmed down. Erestor gave him a hearty pat on the back before quickly grabbing the rope tied to Shu Wen's foot. The elf disconnected it from the tree temporarily, tied it to the rope ladder, then wound it around the mallorn again. Ren, grasping the idea, quickly tied Glorfindel and Galadriel to the rope ladder before forcefully propelling herself to it and scampering down, tying everybody to the ladder as she went. The human breathed a sigh of relief as she dropped to ground. 

_I bet you think this song is about you..._

'Si! Jump onto the ladder!' 

Silei shifted carefully from Galadriel's leg to the ladder as Shu Wen did the same beneath her. Shu Wen rapidly cut the two of them loose, and they too climbed down the ladder, leaving Glorfindel and Galadriel tied to the ladder, which in turn was tied to the branch. Ren was shaking slightly, sparks still occasionally flying off her form. Haldir then withdrew a throwing knife. 

Ren gaped at him as she realized he meant to cut the ladder from the mallorn branch.. 

'You're not sane! What if you miss?' 

'I won't.' 

The elf threw the knife. Ren did not dare watch. Thankfully, no screams of pain and/or agony sounded through the night. Sighing with relief, Ren opened her eyes again. 

'What do we do now?' 

Erestor glanced at the rope which held the ladder to the mallorn. Then, he grabbed it and began to wind his way around the mallorn. Everybody soon chipped in, helping to reel the two elda down from the sky. 

'Ow!' 

Glorfindel's head hit a branch as he and Galadriel were pulled around a tree. Galadriel's head was now littered with leaves. Slowly, they were drawn to the ground. Ren picked up a large stick and started to pummel Galadriel and Glorfindel. She whacked him once, then alternated and hit Galadriel 

_Don't you?___

Whack. 

_Don't you?___

Whack. 

_Don't you?___

Gradually, Glorfindel and Galadriel both came to realize someone was trying to beat them to death and stopped glowing. Galadriel's eyes turned from green to black to purple then back to its normal shade. Most alarming. As the two eldar started calming down, Lothlorien too gradually returned back to normal silver instead of a bright, shining flare beacon it had been a few minutes earlier. Satisfied, Ren shredded the rope binding the two to the ladder. Glorfindel jumped up, beginning to glow again, but that stopped as Ren whacked him with the stick again. The two resorted to staring at each other, and for a minute there was silence. 

The silence was broken as Celeborn came screeching, fan still in his hair and Yvonne now trying to jump on him. 

It was going to be a _long_ night.   
  



	26. Mayhem

::Idiocity or Genius?:: 

Disclaimer: Nyaaaaah! 

A/N: Well, the break is nearly over, so here is one more chapter before all hell breaks loose again... 

* 

'Now,' said Erestor, as he waved the stick that Ren had used to keep things in control around in the air, 'why don't we try to discuss this problem _civilly_, hmm?' 

The menacing look on Elrond's Chief Advisor's face was enough to get even Galadriel to shut up and sit, sulking. Ren worked, busily using Haldir's knife, which she had retrieved from some underbrush in the distance, to shred the remaining bonds that held the two eldar captive to each other. Glorfindel ruefully rubbed the back of his head, where his head had made contact with a tree branch. Galdor hauled him up. Haldir hurriedly picked his Lady up and helped her to pluck _mallyrn_ leaves out of her hair. Celeborn was being forcefully restrained by Sara and Silei, while Shu Wen tried to calm Yvonne down. By that time, Inez had come upon them, and was trying to untangle the fuzzball of hair that trapped Yvonne's still moving fan. Ren knelt on one knee, her hair, once braided, now fell free around her, covering her face. The girl impatiently swept it backwards. 

'What on Middle Earth is _wrong_ with you people? Snap out of it!' 

The girl impatiently grabbed the stick from Erestor's grasp and made violent gesticulations in Sara's direction. 

'You! What did you do this time?' 

Sara was about to open her mouth and protest, but Diana elbowed her in the stomach. Sara shut her mouth and shook her head. 

'Fine! We did it, all right? Now, just for the record...' 

Sara Ang, Trouble Maker of the year, stepped forward, snatched out a pen knife and sliced a lock of hair off Galadriel's head. The elda screeched. Sara grinned. Ren just smiled faintly, and slid off into the distance; evidently wanting some space to think things over. Glorfindel clutched his own tresses protectively. 

* 

_When the cold and winter comes,_   
_Starless night will cover day._   
_In the veiling of the sun,_   
_We will walk in bitter rain._   
_But in dreams. But in dreams,_   
_I can hear you name._   
_And in dreams, and in dreams,_   
_We will meet again._   
_When the seas and mountains fall,_   
_And we come to end of days._   
_In the dark I hear your call,_   
_calling me there,_   
_I will go there, and back and again.___

Ren dug through her pack, looking through the oddments, somehow thinking of the song The Breaking of the Fellowship in her misery. Something about what Sara did struck her as odd, or maybe even a form of foresight. The human was in a depressive mood. Something boded ill, somehow, somewhere. In the back of her mind, where the eternal waves still crashed and the burden was still carried, something felt wrong. Morgoth's Ring, The Peoples of Middle Earth and the Silmarillion. Ren threw the three annals onto her end of the talan, grabbed some pens and paper that she found also, a torch light which had somehow ended up in there and a bandana; leftovers from the last school event. Tying everything up, Ren silently slipped off the talan, descending the rope ladder and padding away to a quiet place to think. 

*__

_'_Eru Illuvatar, Manwe Sulimo, Ulmo Lord of all waters what did I do to deserve this?'__

Glorfindel savagely drew back another arrow and let loose. The elda was venting off some frustration at one of the various archery grounds littered about Lothlorien. Somewhere nearby, Nimrodel bubbled happily, oblivious to what one very angry Vanya was doing. Glorfindel, being an elf, had his great and wondrous senses (hackcough), enough so to see through most of the darkness and spy the archery butts in the distance, even though it had not become light yet. Somehow, Glorfindel doubted any one of them would be getting much sleep after the events. The reassuring thud of an arrow embedding itself somewhere in the target grounded him slightly, but the elda still felt uneasy. 

_Who would not, in these times?___

Another arrow soon followed the last, and the sound of snapping wood signified Glorfindel's accuracy. The elf only smiled grimly. 

* 

On the first sheet of Ren's paper: 

**Title: Names******

**Finwe: Noldoran******

**Feanor: Finwe, K(c)urufinwe, Feanaro. Curufinwe Fayanaro (...)******

**Fingolfin: Nolofinwe******

**Finarfin: Arafinwe******

**Fingon: Findekano******

**Turgon: Turukano******

**MIA: Arakano: Dead, gone, kapish. Do not mention. Supposedly made-but-never-made-it. Bargh.******

**Aredhel: Irisse, Ireth,******

**Finrod (Felgund): Findarato (Telerin alert!)******

**Orodreth (Unconfirmed): Ingoldo******

**Angrod: Angarato (Telerin alert!), Angamaite (Iron-Handed)******

**Aegnor: Aikanaro, Ambarato, Aikanar (Fell Fire)******

**Galadriel: Nerwende Artanis, Alatariel(le) (TELERIN! Blame Celeborn)******

**MIA: (The son that never was?) Artaher******

**Idril: Itarilde******

**Earendil: Ardamire (World-jewel)******

**Elros: Elerossee******

**Maedhros: Nelyafinwe (Third-Finwe), Maitimo (Well-shaped one [!]), Rusco (Fox), Russandol (Coppertop [not the battery])******

**Maglor: Kanafinwe (Strong voiced/Commanding), Makalaure (Forging Gold??)******

**Celelgorm: Turkafinwe (Strong [in body], Tyelkormo (Hasty Riser)******

**Curufin: Kurufinwe, Artarinke (Little Father)******

**Caranthir: Morifinwe (Dark [His hair]), Carnistir (Red-face)******

**Amrod: Pityafinwe (Little Finwe), Ambarto******

**Amaras: Telufinwe (Last Finwe), Ambarussa (Top-russet)******

**Note: Damn. These people have too many names. Take Valinorian forms - easier.**

On Ren's second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth sheet of paper were illegible squiggles, most of which went along the lines of "Whose son?" "Dead or alive?" "Hair?" "Silmaril" "Feanor" "Crossed out" "Orodreth vs. Fingon?" "Ereinion?" and many, many lines of elven family trees, ranging from the First Age to the Third. 

On Ren's seventh sheet of paper, there was a lot of vulgar words, stick figures and other random bits of nonsense. Ren nodded to herself and ruffled up her sheets of paper, then turned to Nimrodel and splashed her face in the water. The very first flickers of dawn had risen, making everything pale blue. It was still, however, very dark, and the amount of trees made it virtually impossible to see anything beyond five metres. The human had chosen to go over the the running river to settle down in peace, and since it was so early in the morning, nobody was about. Well, at least Ren _thought_ nobody was about. Haldir was across the bank, alone, and he was taking his shirt off, evidently wanting to bathe. Ren decided in that moment that she was mentally scarred for life, and with a strangled choke of something that sounded that "arghbe", she grabbed her things and scrambled off before any _other, _ahem, items of clothing came off the Marchwarden. In her scramble for relevant safety, Ren made for the tree line and archery field she knew was there- where, if any elves were even there in the first place, everyone would be fully clothed. 

* 

Glorfindel concentrated on the target, drawing the arrow back a bit further to give it more power. Angling his arm a bit more, the elf fixed his eyes on the innocent but battered archery butt, which had about three quarters of Glorfindel's quiver embedded on it. Abruptly, the elf heard a rustling to his right, and before he could stop himself, instinct and his decided twitchiness that morning caused him to swing the bow over to the right, and after redrawing the bow, the Gondolindrim let the shaft fly. 

* 

Ren heard the ominous sound of a bow being drawn back, and frozen. Common sense took over, and she threw her papers up into the air before dropping to the ground in time to see a arrow fly and hit one of the papers, which was where her head had been a few moments prior. Ren gulped. The arrow had clean taken off the face of Stick Figure Feanor, and the entire sheet was now stuck on the bole of a mallorn tree. The trauma of nearly seeing Haldir strip and then coming close to being murdered was a bit more than Ren could take. Ditching all her belongings, she took off towards her talan, the sounds of her anonymous attacker running after her in the distance. She swore she heard the name Sirithbrethil being called. _Damn! The stalker even knows my name!___

_*___

Glorfindel spotted Ren running away. 

_Oh dear Eru. I almost SHOT the person I'm meant to help.___

Glorfindel took off. 

*  
  
  
Ren scrambled into came. Sara came over. Ren gushed. 

'Ahg! Haldir! Nimrodel! NO SHIRT! Scarred! Arrow! Murderer! Stalker! GETITAWAY!' 

Sara ran off, pulling Inez with her to the River while Ren collapsed down, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. 


	27. Disaster

::Havoc:: 

Disclaimer: It's not mine... *cries* 

A/N: Welllll, it (was) Good Friday, so I might as well get some "work" done... No, actually, now it's the 3rd of May. Procrastinator alert! 

* 

Glorfindel raced after the fleeting figure in front of him, repeated yelling out Ren's name as he tried to avoid running into trees while putting on all the speed an Elf can (which is, frankly, a lot) to chase after the human. Jumping over a log in a fraction of a second, Glorfindel had to throw himself forcefully to the side to avoid colliding with a maniacal Sara and a protesting Inez. Dodging a overhanging mallorn leaf and finally breaking out into the open, the elf saw Ren trying to reorganize her books while blabbering out various incoherent sentences to a rather baffled looking Gildor and a rather annoyed Erestor. Slowing down after seeing that Ren had no visible holes in her head and/or bleeding/dismembered body parts, and that his arrow was not stuck anywhere in her, Glorfindel made his way over. Ren was evidently in shock, and was blabbering Sindarin at an alarming rate to Erestor, who was petting her arm and trying to get her to calm down. 

'Im gado ned gonathras uin taurum, a bronad-nin tharin. Delu gwaithos erthad an degi im. Im eglan gwanno!' [Sindarin: I am caught in an entanglement of large-evil, and survival is beyond me. Hateful people surround me and try to kill me. I am forsaken to die!] 

Erestor was beginning to look flustered. Glorfindel's mouth twitched at the corners. 

'Deri u-prestannen, Ren!' [Be calm, Ren!] 

'U PRESTANNEN?! NIN AGOR DEGO!' [BE CALM?! I NEARLY GOT SHOT!] 

'Ren, pen u-thell!' [Ren, somebody might have done it unintentionally!] 

'Carech nauth?!' [You think?!] 

Glorfindel decided that it was time to intervene before either Erestor bit off Ren's head or Ren bit off Erestor's. Gildor simply shut up and remained in the background. Glorfindel, unfortunately, forgot that he was *still* holding his bow, with a rather conspicuous looking quiver (empty) stuck on his back. Ren stopped arguing with Erestor, looked up and gaped. Before Glorfindel knew what had happened, she was ranting at _him_. 

'Ha na le?!' [It was you?!] 

Glorfindel nodded meekly. Ren was about to jump up and murder him when a shriek and a yell came from the Nimrodel. The three elves and the human looked at each other for a moment before dashing over to the river. 

* 

Inez shrieked loudly before wrenching her hand out of Sara's grip, shut her eyes and blindly stumbled into the direction that led _away_ from the Nimrodel and Haldir. Sara grinned and took out the remainder of the green dye that they had used in Imladris. 

_I knew this would come in useful!___

* 

Gildor crashed into Inez as he plummeted forward. Unfortunately, the River Nimrodel was roughly five inches from where they stood. Splish. 

* 

Erestor decided that Haldir needed a bit of modesty at the moment. Erestor decided that he had better kill Haldir before the situation got any more embarrassing than it already was. Erestor tried to throw the guard his tunic, but unfortunately, the banks of the Nimrodel gave way under him and the counsellor ended up throwing _himself_ at Haldir. Splash. 

* 

Ren grabbed Glorfindel by the wrist and dragged him to the waterside. She proceeded to try and save Inez from being crushed by Gildor, while Glorfindel dumbly gaped. A kick in the shin woke him up, however, and the elf dove into the water to help out. Drenched and shivering, Inez was eventually pulled out of the water, and Gildor, spluttering, came up soon after. Erestor had succeeded, however indirectly, to pull a tunic over Haldir's head after falling on top of the Marchwarden, and Haldir himself managed to surmise the situation to save himself. Five minutes after, when everyone had caught their breath, Ren sat down in the water and said, 

'Does anyone know _why_ we are GREEN?!'   



	28. Assumption

::Assumption:: 

Disclaimer: None whatsoever... Yiss, precious. 

A/N: SSS! SSS! Secondary school sucks! Yes, it, does! 

* 

Ren and Diana were both sharing some rather violent thoughts with each other. Diana was lounging on a rock, half of her sketchbook now dyed a bright green, while Ren sat on the grass, blending in almost perfectly. Even her hair seemed to have converted itself into a brilliant, neon emerald. Spitting her words out rather more forcefully than necessary, Ren wrung her now unbraided hair out, colouring in turn the grass underneath her. 

'When I find Sara, somebody's head is going to roll.' 

Diana looked ruefully at her sketchbook, crossing her arms. Her face moulded itself into a storm cloud, and she flung a bright green bit of (dried) parchment at Ren. Catching it, the human saw a couple of blurs and plenty of green colouring, with some small specks of the plant used embedded in it. 

'Nice, um, graffiti there. Sara again?' 

Diana glared at her friend. 

'Does my sketchbook look any less green than your hair?' 

Ren rolled her eyes, scrunched up the parchment and flung it back at Diana. They sat in silence for a few moments before Glorfindel slunk into their clearing, carrying what looked like an entire potful of steaming liquid. Setting it down as quickly as he could, the Vanya, or rather Galel (Green Elf), quickly blew on his hands to keep them cool before dropping down next to Ren. Evidently, the elves were not much better off, especially seeing that their hair was a shale blond, and for Haldir it extended to almost a pale, white gold. Glorfindel was slightly better off than the Marchwarden, who was embarrassed, wet, green and upset (in that order), as his hair was, akin to his name), a deeper shade of gold. But gold was gold in the end, and so the pale Vanya was considerably greener than the long haired human who sat, resigned, on the ground. 

'You friend had better be able to run fast when I get to her.' 

Ren sighed, counting names off her fingertips. 

'That goes for you, me, Haldir, Erestor, Inez and Gildor for the river incident, and Diana, Shu Wen and Yvonne for several ruined sketched and drawings. I believe Si is the only one unscathed by all this... _green_.' 

Ren shuddered visibly, rubbing her arms as if trying to rid it of its tinge of, well, green. Moments later, Si Lei stormed in, nearly bowling over the pot in her anger. An unsheathed, long knife was now being waved about in some very alarming gesticulations, and Glorfindel and Ren both inched backwards slightly. The tall human was cursing Sara in some rather inventive ways, one having to do with an orc, a broomstick and a piece of Lembas. Ren winced. Si Lei threw her knife down in frustration, where it embedded itself a meter away from Ren. The shorter human mentally breathed a sigh of relief. 

'My. Knife. Is. Now. GREEN!' 

Ren tilted her head to Diana and Glorfindel. 

'Welcome to the club.' 

Glorfindel sat up and pulled the pot of liquid over to them, dipping a finger in and testing the coolness of it. 

'It should be cool enough by now.' 

Ren, curious, looked up. 

'What should be - _yargh_!' 

Before she was able to react to the situation, Glorfindel had gleefully toppled half of the pot onto Ren, who was now spluttering indignantly. 

'What,' she said as she wiped liquid out of her eyes, 'Was that for?!' 

Glorfindel shrugged and splashed the rest of the substance onto himself. Ren finally got the gist of things and looked down at herself, experimentally rubbing at a patch of skin at her forearm before gleefully grinning. 

'I'm a normal colour again!' 

Glorfindel threw her a towel and she began to scrub off the evil, evil green dye. Si Lei took the opportunity to snitch what was left in the pot to clean off her knife, and smiled in satisfaction as her white haft and silver blade returned to their normal colour. Diana just sat and sulked on the rock, unable to do anything about her sketches. 

* 

Erestor came into the clearing, wringing his hair off and elated to be clean again, then stopped short. Glorfindel, Advisor to Elrond and Elda, was sitting on a rock alongside three human children, busily marking down something on what looked suspiciously like green parchment. The elda, sensing his presence, looked up and grinned. 

'Care to join us? We are plotting some form of revenge or the other.' 

Erestor immediately decided that Glorfindel was not so mad after all, and quickly sat down in the space the group made for him. 

* 

Sara was jubilant. She had successfully dyed half of their fellowship bright green, killed off possessions of most of the others and was still relatively sane and alive and not green. Just as she walked into the pavilion that they were housed in, though, her went turned upside down. Green dye came crashing on the top of her head, and she heard various hoots of laughter coming from above her before _pink_ dye sploshed down upon her. She head rustling and movement before a shouted comment of "What goes around, comes around!" found her. Outplayed. 

* 

SOMEWHERE IN VALINOR... THE PEOPLE OF GONDOLIN GATHER. Well, at least their lords do... 

Lorien was a rather fickle Vala in the term of his looks. They depended mainly on how he felt that day, and sometimes ended up with strange combinations of the raw power of the Valar alongside the most beautiful of _eldarin_ forms. Today was a rather curious one. The vala's hair was, as usual, a pale silver, but strangely enough, Lorien was angry enough so that it shimmered, slightly transparent and altogether rather intimidating if you were not used to rampaging _ainur_ hell bent on destruction. His form was rather shadowy that day, and clad in silver and grey, even the Gondolindrim had to strain their eyes to keep him in sight. Lorien stormed about Mandos' outer halls, where the living can go, while Namo, his brother, sat on his throne and followed his brother with his train of sight. Left... Right... Up... Down... Lorien was pacing back and forth before abruptly stopping. 

A deathly (how ironic) silence fell over the audience in the hall as Lorien stilled, eyes closed and hands hanging loose at his side. After a number of minutes without anything happening, Duilin started shuffling from foot to foot, but Turgon stepping on him stopped him. A while later, Lorien began to glow an eerie white. The vala's brow furrowed slightly before he released his true power in a rapture of once dormant and most potent of magics. There was a invisible ripple of poignant energy about them as Lorien cast his spirit forth, Dreamweaver, looking for the presence of the Feanorians. Mandos, seeing his little brother had taken the initiative waited in silence. There was another spasm of intangible force, and Mandos surrendered himself to the darkness as he went in search of his brother. The two valar did not move for the longest time, until at last Lorien cracked an eye open and Mandos relaxed in his throne. 

The two looked at each other and shook their heads. The elves looked at each other, confused, but both Namo and Irmo started forward towards Taniquetil and the Ring of Doom. 

* 

AT THE RING OF DOOM 

Lorien and Mandos swept into the Ring, all powerful and imminent, and a number of frazzled looking elf lords followed in their wake. Manwe slid into his seat, and Elbereth appeared in a glittery shimmering of light and air. Turgon stiffened as he came to realize that they were at the meeting of the Powers. There was a ripple of liquid near one of the chairs, and a few moments later, Ulmo materialized. Nienna, clothed in black, flitted in soon after, followed by Orome. Tulkas and Nessa came, fleet footed and silent, before Yavanna arrived, seating herself in her chair made of living oak and birch. With a wave of her hand, the twigs and thorns grew away from the seat, making the chair safe to sit on. The valie was evidently fed up with Aule, who had arrived moments after her, trying to carve her chair, and had commanded it to grow thorns to dissuade Aule. After getting pricked various times, the smith had given up. Vaire, picking threads out of her hair, came and the Ring was completed. 

The meeting commenced. 


	29. Valar

::Trouble. Big Trouble:: 

Disclaimer: *scowls* 

A/N: Hehehe. I'm _updating_ for a change! By the way, the whole "got" vs "gotten" grammar mess up here is because I'm using British English. Vesak Day updatttttte! 

* 

_What have we got ourselves into this time?___

Ecthelion nervously cast glances around him. His fellow Gondolindrim looked equally fidgety, and even Turgon looked slightly unsettled and apprehensive. Looking somewhat fearfully at the gathering of valar and valier, the Lord of the Fountains edged closer to the rest of the Lords of Gondolin. 

Manwe settled comfortably into his stone-and-mithril-and-elven-glass-and-everything-else throne at the head of the Ring (which was not sanely possible, seeing as the _ring_ was round), and cleared his throat importantly. Ecthelion was not sure, but he swore he heard the phrase "overconfident snerk" come from Tulkas. The Lord of the Breath of Arda (...) began to speak. 

'The Sons of Feanor,' 

'And Feanor himself,' Tulkas smoothly interrupted. 

'The** Sons of Feanor and Feanor himself,**' Manwe growled, staring at his fellow vala, 'have awoken _again_ and *somehow* left Mandos.' 

Ecthelion swore that he saw Namo's eyebrow twitch, and that the temperature of the room had dipped slightly. The wind about them picked up slightly, and the elves huddled together, trying to appear as insignificant as possible. Namo, glowering at Manwe under hooded eyelids, spoke in his deathly quiet voice. 

'_How_ the Feanorians escaped is beyond me. Maybe it is bound to the Oath, and that they have awoken, just as the silmarils have.' 

Nienna and Yvanna, who were sitting together, started a soft lament, causing Aule to roll his eyes. Nienna sobbed, heartbroken. 

'The silmarils! We could have saved the trees with the _silmarils_! Why did he keep the silmarils? Why couldn't he have given us the **silmarils**? Everything could have turned out better if it weren't for the _silmarils_! The accursed, useless **_silmarils_**!' 

By then, most of the Ring of Doom were staring at her, but in a state of carefree oblivion, the valie wept on shamelessly. Manwe, looking rather miffed at his council being disrupted so, cleared his throat again, and the wind speed picked up a few more notches. 

'What are we to do about it now?' 

Irmo took his turn to look annoyed, and several specks of diamond dust started to appear about the Ring, making it seem as if in a dream. 

'Whatever it is, you had better get _rid_ of them fast. They are,' There the vala went all spirit-cast-forthish again, 'in **my** gardens, and Feanor is tearing his hair out over Miriel. The flowers are _wilting_.' 

Ecthelion swore that he saw the sky darken. Ulmo, getting rather fired up by the debate, happily threw himself into the fray. 

'What about _me_? My elven seneschal is being tormented by a number of whelps who are supposed to _help_ him!' 

There the Lord of the Waters glared at Manwe. The wind was beginning to act up a bit, and the moisture in the air seemed to have increased. Irmo stood by his brother, and the skies began to darken. Aule jumped up. 

'The silmarils are great crafts! We cannot simply _destroy _them!' 

Flames were beginning to leap up around his feet. Ecthelion shuffled again. Angry valar were never fun to be around. Yavanna, slightly incensed that her husband was angry, was getting slightly worked up herself. 

'We must not destroy the last remains of the Two Trees!' 

Ecthelion swore that her hair was starting to look distinctly plant like, and the thorns on her chair looked distinctly longer. Elbereth stood as well. 

'One of _my_ stars, and no less! I will _not_ have it destroyed!' 

The sky glowed dangerously, as if to prove Varda's point. For a moment, all was silent save the tapping of Nessa's feet, the hushing sounds of Este as she tried to soothe Nienna and general, intangible boredom of the valar who were unconcerned. Then, all hell (fine, Mandos) broke loose. Manwe shouted at his wife. 

'We must get rid of them!' 

The air stirred at Manwe's wrath, and a heavy wind whipped about the Ring. All the elves had to cling onto their hair, swishing and trying to stop the loose strands from getting in their face. Turgon desperately looked for an exit, but Mandos had barred the exit. Elbereth, now thoroughly peeved, stood up against her husband. 

'Who are you to say so? You never make the good decisions! Now the inner walls of Taniquetil are covered in ugly, yellow decor, thanks to you!' 

Miffed, the sky began to glow brighter, while the wind howled as Manwe shot back, 

'I happen to _like_ the colour yellow!' 

Namo screeched at the two in his best Doomsman voice. 

'CAN YOU NOT SEE? WE MUST SOMEHOW STOP THIS DESTRUCTION!' 

The Ring darkened, and only the glowing forms of the valar could be seen as they fought. Irmo snapped and screamed alongside his brother. 

'They are a NUISANCE! We should have obliterated them from the face of Arda (and Aman) before this even _began_! And you, brother, should have _foreseen this_!' 

Star dust exploded about the place as Irmo turned against his own kin. Mandos looked insulted. 

'I should not reveal what could be! YOU LITTLE PESTILENCE OF A BROTHER, ALL YOU EVER DO IS DREAM ANYHOW!' 

Namo's voice rumbled around the Ring as the brother's fought. Yavanna was sprouting nightshade and thorn bushes everywhere. 

'They were **my** trees! I should be the one to decide what to do with them!' 

Aule was now a flaming ball, shooting sparks at Ulmo who in turn conjured a miniature tidal wave. Ecthelion took one look at his lord and they fled from the Ring of Terror (as Mandos had kindly neglected covering for the exit, being far too busy in changing the colours of the sky from purple to green). Sparks could still be seen from Tuna for days after. 

* 

Their time in Lothlorien was over. The Company was sobered as they spent their last evening in the Royal Talan, unwilling to wander out into the wild where they would be in danger, exposed to crebain, orcs, untrustworthy maia, Uruk-Hai and other beings which could generally stick them through with sharp, pointed objects. Silei was pushing the elvish food (which looked, frankly, like puree-d lembas) around her plate as Sara stuck toothpicks through the garnish. Ren was drumming her fingers on the table, oblivious to both the food and the poisoned glares Galadriel as sending her way. As Celeborn desperately tried to calm her, Inez stuck two olives into the Mash (as she had aptly named the thing she assumed was a form of mashed potatoes) and dragged her fork in a semi-circle to form a Nezzy Logic (TM) smiley face. Glorfindel sighed, giving Ren a non-too-subtle kick under the table, which startled the human and sent the fork which was near to her hand flying, very nearly impaling Haldir, who had been approaching the table. The Marchwarden ducked, fortunately, and the utensil embedded itself somewhat harmlessly in a mallorn branch. 

Clearing his throat, he approached Galadriel. 

'My lady the -' 

Distractedly, Galadriel ate her food as she answered the captain. 

'Yes, Haldir, I know the preparations are complete.' 

'Well, then we should be-' 

'No, they do not need the boats. They will be taking a detour through to Mirkwood, I mean Greenwood.' 

'My lady, should we then-' 

'Yes, yes, give them the lembas packs.' 

'The six-' 

'The twelve packs will be fine.' 

'And what about-' 

'The gift-giving will commence as planned, thank you. You may go.' 

Scowling, Haldir left the talan. 

_Mind reading eldar. Huh, who needs them?_   
  



	30. Gift Giving Ceremonies

::Ai, Elbereth:: 

Disclaimer: It is not mine. Happy? 

A/N: This is to celebrate MAD day! This is POINTLESS FILLER chapter EXTRAORDINAIRE! Yes. Am on Sour-Stick-Sweet sugar haa-iiiigh! 

* 

Ren scrambled off the talan the second (or rather millisecond. She did not want in any way to be delayed by one of Galadriel's long winded litanies) dinner had ended and had zipped straight off to the pavilion where she kept her "notes". Her notes were basically photocopied sheets of various Histories of Middle Earth and the Original themselves, marked down with scribbles and diagrams that the human would not have drawn otherwise (not wishing to mar her books). Grabbing the pile, she stalked off once again to a faraway mallorn (this time nowhere even _near_ the river _or_ an archery range) and settled down. 

'Ai Elbereth, Gilthoniel... Silivern penna miriel... Oh menel aglar elenath... Na-chaered palan diril... Or was it diriel...? Where is it, where is it...' 

Digging through the lot, she eventually pulled out the stack labelled "Poems (Sind/Q(u)en)" and flipped through it. 

_Ai Elbereth, Gilthoniel,_   
_silivern penna miriel,_   
_oh menel aglar elenath,_   
_na-chaered palan diriel._   
_O galadhremmin ennorath,_   
_Fanuilos, le linnathon,_   
_nef aear, si nef aearon.___

Humming the poem to herself, Ren mumbled the passage quickly, committing it to memory. She had distinctly remembered the Shelob-Chapter and the Ringwriath-Chapter (where the name "Elbereth" hurt the Melkor/Sauron supporters more than a glowing stick, err, sword.) and decided having a line of defence was better than nothing. Ren nearly jumped out of her skin when Gildor suddenly appeared next to her. 

'A Elbereth Gilthoniel o menel palan-diriel, le nallon. Gilthoniel! Ah! Elbereth.' 

Then Galadriel (shock, shock, horror, horror) appeared. Ren wanted to melt into goo and disappear. Was there no _privacy_ in Lothlorien?! 

'We still remember, we who dwell, in this land beneath the trees.' 

_Great. All I need is for the rest of my group and Glorfindel, alongside Galdor and Erestor, to turn up, and we could have supper, shall we?___

Ren really should not have even _thought _of that, and Glorfindel, Erestor, Galdor and her friends did turn up. Wryly, Glorfindel completed the lament of the Exiled Noldor. 

'Thy starlight on the Western Seas.' 

Ren threw her hands up in the air. 

'What did I do?' 

Sara just snatched the papers away, muttering absently, 

'We wanted to come find you. Something about elvish and giant spiders.' 

Ren rolled her eyes. 

'Eryn Lasgalen?' [Mirkwood's old name, Greenwood.] 

Diana countered. 

'Eryn Las-Not-Very-Galen.' [Wood-Not-Very-Green.] 

'Precisely. Greenwood the Not-So-Great-After-All.' 

Ren snatched her papers back. 

'What about Green-Mirk-Wood?' 

Galadriel cleared her throat, and everyone froze. It signalled a long, long, _long_ speech. 

'About Mirkwood, Eryn Lasgalen, Greenwood, Taur-en-Ndeadelos, whatever you wish to call it. I need to gift upon you each something. I originally intended for the gift giving to be tomorrow, but the Fellowship demand my attention.' 

Silei rolled her eyes. 

'What can you possibly give us?' 

Galadriel pulled out several shining vials of light. Inez squealed. 

'Earendil!' 

Galadriel felt slightly cheated of her long explanation as she handed the vials out. 

'They will light your path when _all_ other lights... Go out. Use them wisely.' 

Haldir abruptly materialized next to Galadriel. Ren wanted to scream. How long had these confounded elves been hanging around, anyway? Her train of thought was quickly dissipated when Galadriel stuck her hands into the back of goods Haldir had grudgingly brought along with him. Turning first to Shu Wen, she presented her with a leather bound, waterproof sketchbook, with bits of mallorn leaf embedded in the fancy parchment. A graphite and birch hewn pencil came along with it. Haldir, looking distinctly peeved, unceremoniously dumped the "complimentary" cloak and brooch on the girl, muttering about how the special garb of the Galadhremmin was being wasted on strangers. 

Galadriel moved on to Inez, whom she gave a complicated hair pin (to prevent Inez's hair from _ever_ being pulled out/falling off again, thanks to either worthless 50 cent rubber bands or Sara Ang) and a carefully kept map of Middle Earth. Inez wished that Galadriel had a copy of Enter the Matrix somewhere on her, but doubted that Middle Earth had either computers or Playstations (One or 2). That was quickly doused out as the Grumbling Haldir trounced her with her cloak. 

To Sara she gave a light, 6 inch (double the length allowed in Singapore, which Sara detested with burning hatred) concealed-dagger, strap and sheath included. The bloodthirsty monster - er, innocent, human child (hack cough), was practically bouncing up and down in glee until a cloak was tossed over her eyes, the brooch somehow pinning itself to her sleeve and trapping her. Haldir received a blind, but rather well aimed kick, for that one. 

To Diana she gave an identical copy of Shu Wen's sketchbook, except the cover was intricately carved with Sindarin inscriptions, and there was significantly more pages; Diana being the more avid artist and drawer in comparison to Shu Wen. Diana gave Haldir a venomous and definitely dangerous glance as he approached, with allowed her to be presented with the cloak with considerably more grace than the others before her. 

To Silei she gave another slim vial, but the liquid seemed to glow a pale umber, and the vial was encased in a twisting, elegant metal insignia of a dragon: Smaug. The metal figurine, which was really a beautifully made piece of flatten metal; coloured and twisted, encased the vial, protecting it. The eyes glinted, denoting them to be made of _mithril_. Galadriel smiled and uncorked the vial, letting drop a single droplet onto Haldir's shoe, which promptly burst into a small smouldering flame. Howling, the March Warden stamped on his (thankfully) leather shoes before angrily chucking a cloak at the girl. 

To Yvonne, Galadriel firstly gave a long lock of silver (albeit rather... messy looking) hair. No prizes for guessing where _that_ had come from. Celeborn had significantly avoided their company since that little... incident. She then gave Yvonne a large bottle of bubble making solution, alongside a drawing stylus (and a big, big bottle of washable ink) and yet another sketchbook. Haldir came along, wielding his Cloak and Brooch. 

Lastly, to Ren, she gave several elf-made hair ties (to keep the long strands in place) and a book. The book was a genuine Book of Emblems of all the major recorded Houses from the First age onwards, all embossed and coloured in meticulously. They ranged from Gil-Galad's to even Ingwe's. Ren grinned; being a collector of Elven House Emblems, it was not easy to find the actual ones. The cloak and brooch was readily snatched from Haldir's arms before the elf could vent his anger on her. 

For the Elves, Galadriel gave different items. To Glorfindel she gave a lock of her hair; signifying their little... tryst was over. To Erestor, a packet of herbs (labelled "Pain Relief"). To Galdor, a shell set in crystal from Valinor and to Gildor a small heirloom from the house of Fingon (of which he was descended). 

Gracefully "taking her leave from their weary and tired presence, as they should get rest for the trip on the morrow, for Elbereth knows where the darkness could take them", Galadriel exited, Haldir stomping after her. 

The Gift Giving. Yes.   
  
  
  



	31. Moving On

::Moving Out:: 

Disclaimer: Tolkien's, not mine. 

A/N: I've been lazy, so bite me. I've added a nice snippet of Home Made Sindarin Poem into this one, though, with GRAMMAR _and_ the funky symbols that I so often leave out, so be _grateful_. *laughs* Small, tiny filler update again... 

* 

One Night Ago 

* 

'Haldir?' 

'Yes, my lady?' 

'You _do_ know that you're going along with them, don't you?' 

'_What?!_' 

* 

That day, and one annoyed Haldir later... 

* 

Ren grumpily stamped alongside Diana, clutching a beaten piece of parchment and muttering darkly under her breath as she tried to write while walking. The girl had been speaking only in broken Sindarin for the past few minutes, so even the elves had given up trying to translate the gibberish that was coming out of her mouth and had left her be. Gildor, Galdor, Erestor and Glorfindel happily diverted their attentions to either the front or the end of the group as they not-very-merry company departed Lorien, while Haldir skulked in the shadows of the _mallyrn_, trying hard not to draw attention to his still green tinged self. Ren abruptly gave a cry of victory as she stabbed the parchment one last time. 

'Yé! Deleb lambë!' [Quenya: Yes! Sindarin: Abominable language!] 

The Elves turned and stared at her oddly, while her friends just took it in their stride. People bursting out into various languages, both existent and non-existent, was not uncommon. Several 'deseo matar [insert name here]' and Cantonese monologues could and would be carried out at random intervals, so Ren screaming madly in Elvish was not so big a deal. It became worrisome after a while, though, when she refused to speak English again. 

'Degithon! _DEGITHON!_' [Sindarin: I will kill it! _I will KILL it!_] 

Inez worriedly placed her palm on Ren's forehead. It burnt. Ren continued rambling, this time blabbering out bits of verse and "prose" in Elvish. 

'Calë mornië hôl i Ennor,   
Asgor elagys i dôr,   
U-nôrui araid uin doll menel.   
Ai darthathon ned i hîth?   
Ae u-pen hebi i innas an díheno   
I methed-lond tafnen dan mín,   
Neithol mín i galu-dyr,   
Awarthol mín an peletha cuil.' 

[Sindarin: Light darkness that veils the earth   
Violent storms that kill the land   
Sunless days of dark sky   
Who will wait for me in the mist?   
If none harbour the will to forgive   
The Last Path will be held against us   
Denying us the Blessed Lands   
Leaving us to fading life.] 

Now the Elves were beginning to look worried as well. Glorfindel turned to inquire her health, and the human turned to him with what could only be described as a maniacal gleam in her eye, waving the parchment about like a person gone mad. Which she, in retrospect, probably had. 

'Anim MAE! MAE, trenaran le!' [Sindarin: I am FINE! FINE, I tell you!] 

Haldir gave the game away by cackling evilly at that moment, wielding a bottle of rather potent _miruvor_. Sara pounced. 

* 

One Big Headache Later.... 

* 

They were on their way to Mirkwood. Eryn Lasgalen. Greenwood. Taur-en-Ndaedelos. What-have-you. Yes. The large, big, intimidating dark wood filled with elves that were not as wise as they should have been, with Barrel-Riders and drunken butlers, dungeons and a general dislike for dwarves. 

Oh, did I mention the _huge, giant **man eating spiders**_? Delightful. 

Yes, they were on their way to Mirkwood. And they were not very happy about it, I warrant. Inez was not looking forward to the prospect for coming face to face with a 100 pound arachnid, and Ren was not sure as to whether she liked the thought of being regarded as that days after-dinner mint. Silei was not looking forward to getting lost in some forest with no drinking water or hunt, and Shu Wen did not like the idea of falling into a river that caused one to fall asleep and loose their memory. Yvonne did not want to end up in the dungeons, and the elves all did not like to think of their drunk cousin, Thranduil. 

Fine, maybe Thranduil was not drunk _all_ the time, but he was bad enough in the opinion of most of the other _edheli_. 

Not to mention the fact that he had lots of pretty, shiny jewels. 

_Lots_ of them. 

* 

Somewhere in the Not-So-Blessed Lands of Valinor 

* 

The sky was gradually returning back to a slightly more normal colour, namely purple. It had flashed from pink to neon green, black, yellow, orange and emerald over the past few days, so the thought that it was slowly turning more to the blue side of the colour wheel was more than a little comforting to the more ignorant inhabitants of Aman. The amount of diamond dust and magical energy had also been slowly receding, and now one could actually wonder outside with _only_ his or her standing on end. That was definitely an improvement from the time when Fingolfin stepped out of his House and came back with fish for hands. Ulmo had unhappily fixed that particular incident, but the poor elf was probably going to be off seafood for a while. 

Ecthelion whimpered, hiding in a corner of the living area of the Gondolindrim household, clutching his sword tightly to him. His hair was still an unnatural shade of gold-silver, thanks to a bad ricochet of power that Elbereth accidentally sent from Taniquetil, and the lord of the Fountains had spent the better part of the last two days acting like a fidgety rabbit. That was, truthfully, better off than his lord Turgon, who _was_ a rabbit, due to a slight overcharge on Yvanna's part. The valië had been most amused by the sight, and Aulë, thankful for the distraction, had decided to keep Turgon in his "reincarnated" form until his wife settled down. Needless to say, the Lord of Gondolin was not even faintly amused, but the fact that all he could do was twitch his snout and chew on carrots reduced his influence greatly. 

Now Ecthelion was cowering because Ulmo had sent Osse ahead to tell him that he was coming over. Ecthelion had been rightfully traumatized to the point where he _never_ wanted to see a valar or valiër for the next four Ages or so, so this did not go down with him. A strangled moan was wrenched from his throat as he heard the front door open softly. 

Valar save him. 

Or maybe not... 


	32. Amusing Valar

::Contradanza:: 

Disclaimer: FWAHAHA! 

A/N: This chapter's title courtesy of Vanessa Mae, yes. I know I have not been updating much, that's because I'm on HOLIDAY, an unknown _vacation_ that comes once every while to insane people called _writers_ who supply this nonsense. Ironic, I've just discovered that the first anniversary for this fic (13th of June) was **Friday the 13th!** Whee! Isn't that funny? 

* 

Ecthelion trembled visibly as he saw a shadow move in the corridor towards him. Moments later, Ulmo appeared in the living room, looking pointedly at the chair that served as Ecthelion's hiding ground. 

'You can come out now,_ tithen gwathel.' _[Sindarin: Small associate.] 

Ecthelion felt himself distinctly shiver. Associate? He was no vala's... _associate_. He had only dealings with Elves, and dearly wished for it to _stay that way_ until the next Age or so. Glorfindel suffered enough as Ulmo's vassal, and the lord of the Fountains had no wish to follow in his friend's footsteps and become a pawn in this complex, maddening game that the valar played to amuse themselves. THe elf thought he saw Ulmo grin; and he had long learnt that when valar were happy, somebody else, usually elves in the near vicinity, were definitely _not_ going to be happy for an indefinite period of time. Probably a very _long_ indefinite period of time. 

Ulmo spoke again, and there was most obviously a hint of tolerant amusement in the deep baritone of his voice. Ecthelion's eyes swung madly about in their sockets, looking desperately for an escape route. Any escape route. Ulmo laughed, and Ecthelion suppressed a whimper. 

'I know that you are there, Ecthelion. Stop trying to hide.' 

The Gondolindrim lord knew he had been cornered. Cautiously and as slowly as possible, he emerged from his crouching position behind the ornate chair. Ulmo stood there, almost impatient. Ecthelion discreetly shoved the dagger he held behind his back. 

'Yes, my lord?' 

Almost dismissive, the vala waved him into a chair, and obediently, Ecthelion sat. He knew that when Ulmo was in this mood that it was in his best interest to do everything the vala wanted, lest he be relived an an essential thing called his life, social or otherwise. It was never good for a vala to express interest in a single creature. Looking at history... Earendil became a star, Elrond had a twin of a different race, Glorfindel lived two lives in Ennore, the Feanorians ended up as a bunch of deranged madmen (who were currently wreaking havoc around Aman), Elwing had ended up as a bird, just to name a few of the happy encounters the Children of Illuvatar had with the _ainur_. Ulmo grinned as he directed his attention to Ecthelion. 

'Now, Ecthelion, the elves back on Ennore seem to be in need of a _representative_. As Thranduil will be... Otherwise indisposed when they meet him, they will undoubtedly need backup on this... What was it? Ah, yes, _Quest _of theirs. You will go to Middle Earth and aid them. Won't you?' 

Ecthelion had a sinking feeling that the suffix of "won't you" was there merely to serve political correctness. _Think, man!_ Ecthelion desperately grasped at straws, adamant that he get out of his fix. _Anything! _Despairingly, Ecthelion blurted out the first excuse he could think of that might possibly get him out of the situation.__

'How am I to get to Ennore, my lord?' 

Ulmo's smile looked like one Ecthelion had seen on a warg as it approached a hapless victim. 

'I am not called the lord of the waters for no reason, Ecthelion...' 

* 

Later... 

* 

'_ARRRRRRRRRRRRGH!'___

Ecthelion screeched as another tidal wave threw him haphazardly in the general direction of Ennore. A very _general_ direction. The elf lord choked on a spray of sea water, mentally cursing every valar and valie he knew as his _hroa_ (physical form) was thrown roughly about the seas. His _fea _(the more important mental "soul") was already too traumatized to take in what was happening. 

* 

A few hours later than later... On some not-so-plutonian-but-rather-Ennoreian-shore... 

* 

Ecthelion was sure that every bone in his body had been reduced to splintered, and he had definitely taken in more sea water than was safe. His hair hung like lead weights upon his shoulders, the silver strands splayed over his face in a shape reminiscent of a battered birds nest. His clothes had been soaked through, although his sword had miraculously stayed attached to his form. He generally felt as if he had just come back from the dead (again), though this time rather forcefully. If this was what Glorfindel had to go through, Ecthelion felt his respect for his friend double twice fold. Coughing, the elf tried to heave himself up for a moment or two before giving up and just lying, prostrate, on the ground until his strength returned. 

Oh Eru, he hated Ulmo. 

* 

Off the Gap of Rohan 

* 

Glorfindel sighed as he listened to a conversation taking place behind him. The bubbly-yet-depressive, mood-swingish creature named Yvonne had evidently asked of their whereabouts, and the result was not pretty. 

'So we are in Lou-Han? Isn't that a fish?' 

Ren's exasperated voice floated to the elf. 

'Rohan! **Ro-han**! Not Lou-Han! We are nearing the Gap of Rohan.' 

There was a short silence. 

'Oh. Why is it called the Gap of Rohan?' 

'It is a gap between the mountains near Rohan.' 

'Oh. Why are we going through this Gap?' 

'To get to the other side of the mountains.' 

'Oh. Why are we going to the other side of the mountains?' 

'To get to Mirkwood. Greenwood. Taur-en-Ndeadelos. Whatever.' 

'Oh. Why are we going to Green-Mirk... Er, Torn-in-Aeglos (A/N: Aeglos is a flower... and a spear)... Woodmirk... Whatever?' 

'To get to Thranduil.' 

'Oh. Why are we going to get Thranduil?' 

'To make this company complete.' 

'Oh... Er. Oh.' 

Glorfindel sighed. It was going to be a _long_ trip. Ren's voice, which had slowly been rising to the point of hysteria, was punctuated by the sound of one of her books hitting her head at regular intervals as the human drove herself insane. Not that she was not already mental, in a way. Inez, ever the peacemaker, tried to pry the thick binding of paper away from her friend, but Ren had an almost inexhaustible supply of Histories of Middle Earth to bash herself on the head and wallow in misery with. For every one that was taken away, the thudding increased three fold. 

* 

Thranduil sat on his throne. Thranduil sat on his throne in his throne room. Thranduil sat on his golden throne in his throne room. Thranduil sat on his golden throne in his shining throne room. Thranduil wore a circlet of pretty, pretty flowers as he sat on his golden throne in his shining throne room. Thranduil drank dark wine from a bejewelled cup as he wore a circlet of pretty, pretty flowers as he sat on his golden throne in his shining throne room. 

Thranduil was stressed. Thranduil was stressed as he drank dark wine from a bejewelled cup as he wore a circlet of pretty, pretty flowers as he sat on his golden throne in his shining throne room. 

Thranduil decided it was time to count his jewels as he sat, stressed, as he drank dark wine from a bejewelled cup as he wore a circlet of pretty, pretty flowers as he sat on his golden throne in his shining throne room. 

Thranduil wallowed in self pity and hate for all things dwarven as he decided it was time to count his jewels as he sat, stressed, as he drank dark wine from a bejewelled cup as he wore a circlet of pretty, pretty flowers as he sat on his golden throne in his shining throne room. 

No wonder Legolas had fled home on the pretence of acting as messenger and mediator to Elrond. 

Damn, Thranduil was hung over. 


	33. Ignorance

::Ignorance:: 

Disclaimer: His, not mine. 

A/N: Apologies for the lack of updates. And don't mind the mangling of Quenya that goes on below. 

* 

Feanor was sitting in a recluse corner of a recluse area of a recluse district in a more recluse part of the outskirts of one of the most recluse of communities in Valinor. He was absently testing his fingers, methodically picking up a stick, throwing it at Maglor, catching the stick as his annoyed son threw it back at him and repeating the process. Maedhros was waving his right hand about ecstatically, happily babbling to anyone who would listen that he _had a right hand_. Celegorm, ever the "fair" one, was preening himself. Caranthir just sat in a corner in sulked while Amrod and Amras poking stones over a map of Valinor. Curufin was plotting on how to sabotage a ship to ship them off to Ennor. 

A very dangerous group, but at the same time rather loony. Feanor was wearing a stack of large leaves over his eyes to shield them from the sun while Maedhros had rolled up his sleeves to show off his newly regained anatomy. Maglor was practising scales in A-minor, sending chills down everyone's backs while Amrod and Amras were eerily imitating each other's movements. Curufin wore a maniacal look on his face and constantly muttered words like "Alqualonde" and "rubber duck" while Caranthir plaited rocks into his hair. Celegorm was trying to talk to a stray ant, asking it whether it would like to replace Huan. The ant bit him. 

They were all dangerous. Just in rather odd ways. But definitely loony. All loony. Loony enough to being lusting after the Silmarils again. 

* 

The Company was resting as the stars flickered softly above them. Glorfindel idly watched Ren as he leant back against a boulder next to the fire. Ren, oblivious, was jabbing her abused paper again. The fact that the quill was sharp did not improve matters. They were approaching the Gap, and many of the company were faking light moods to avoid the fact that they were nearing Isengard. The journey brought them far too close to the prospect of Uruk Hai for comfort, but it was all that they could do to hope and pray that the Valar would have mercy on their tired, battered, very much half dead forms and allow them to live out what was left of their miserable existence. 

Suddenly, Ren stabbed the paper so hard that the quill went through it and exclaimed, 

'It's the DERIVED A-stem that changes into the -o prefix for the PRESENT TENSE!' 

She paused, tilting her head slightly and frowning, glaring at her paper. 

'Or was it the -ëa?' 

Glorfindel offhandedly threw in a comment. 

'The -ëa prefix for present tense is Quenya, Ren. And the -o prefix in Sindarin is for the infinitive. Present tense in the derived verb stays as -a.' 

The elf had long given up using her "Elvish" name, due to the fact that it was not as easy to scream as the simpler, one syllable "Ren". Erestor rolled his eyes from his place next to Inez and drawled, 

'Quenya, on the other hand, doesn't have an infinitive.' 

Inez blinked. The conversation was beginning to turn into one of the old lectures her old English teacher gave her on the "present-perfect-plural-dual-elephant-tense", or something for the like. Prefix? Was that not the antonym for suffix? Or was it....? It was almost as bad as those, what was it again, "modal axularries'? Shaking her head, she muttered, 

'Oh, shah.' 

Inez lay down to do more productive things, namely sleep. Shu Wen had dropped off somewhere along the discussion about Verb Tenses in Quenya 101, and was now oblivious to the world around her. Haldir stared off into space, eyes vacant in sleep. Gildor edged nervously away from Sara. Ren just stared at her paper, puzzled. Quenya was so much harder when one had to follow grammatical rules. 

'So the Sindarin infinitive verb tense is a -o while its present tense is a -a, its past tense being a -n --,' 

Glorfindel and Erestor instinctively cut her short, 

'-nt.' 

'Being a -n_t_, but the _Quenyan_ infinitive does not exist, its present tense being -a, past being -në?' 

Glorfindel nodded, eyes closed, clearly answering reflexively. Erestor, ever the scholar, added on, 

'Only in the derived A-stem, though.' 

Ren stared for a moment, then crumpled her paper up and threw it, along with the quill, into the fire in front of her. She had formed a conclusion that she hated Sindarin/Quenya linguistics. She went to sleep while Diana tried in vain to fish her Sindarin notes out of the burning mass of wood. 

The next day, they would cross Fangorn, and, with luck, they would approach the Gap of Rohan before a week passed. Of course, that was with _luck_, which seemed to favour the sunny side of Ered Luin rather than them. And Ered Luin was far, far away. 

Glorfindel found himself slipping into reverie as Erestor droned on and on and ON about the A-stem, wondering how Elladan and Elrohir managed to survive their children tutoring lessons when he had been away. An hour with that rambling advisor was enough to make Glorfindel's skin was to curl and turn into a prune. 

* 

Ecthelion really wanted to just melt, die and evaporate at that point in time. Cirdan was poking him with a stick. And not just any normal stick. Cirdan was poking him with one of those sticks that can only appear on the most obscene of sea shores, where the tip is just about sharp enough to pierce mithril and the wood is hard enough to stick a chicken through. The stick was currently poking his side. Groaning with tremendous effort, the silver haired lord rolled over and opened his eyes. Ecthelion barely contained a shriek of pain as light lanced down through the back of his eyelids as he screwed them shut again. The Stick had, fortunately, stopped poking. Cirdan could be heard mumbling something before pulling him up and slicking back his hair, which has fell over his face. 

'Ecthelion?' 

'Unnhn.' 

'Ecthelion, can you hear me?' 

'Unnhn.' 

'Ecthelion, wake up.' 

'Givemea fewmoreminutes, Amme, saes...' 

'Ecthelion.' 

'Unnhn.' 

Cirdan poked the lord with the Stick. Ecthelion yelped, suddenly very much awake. The teleri lord smirked, setting the evil branch down onto the sand, where it assumed the post of innocent driftwood. Ecthelion glared at it. 

'Ecthelion, what are you doing here? You are meant to be dead.' 

Ecthelion vaguely felt his lips moving to form a "I'd rather be dead at the moment, hannad le.", but he was too groggy and watered down to notice. It was all that he could do to lean on Cirdan and drag his dripping form back to the Havens. 

* 

Ecthelion sat on a chair, now in clean clothes, hair drying on a towel wrapped about his shoulders. Long fingers curled about a cup, attached to the blissful warmth that was slowly spreading across his body. Cirdan looked slightly perturbed at the story that Ecthelion had just relayed to him, finding it highly unlikely that the elf could have survived being tossed over seas. Ecthelion was too weary to care, and too tired to notice the shimmering presence that filled the room slowly. 

A number of moments later, Manwe appeared in the room in all his glitter and gold. There was no nature to herald his presence in the house, but Ecthelion swore that he heard the clock tick somewhat louder. Arrogant vala. Cirdan jumped up and started bowing upon recognizing the lord. Ecthelion just sat on his chair, looking at his tea. Cirdan had added too much sugar, he noted. Looking up casually, he waved slightly in welcome. 

'Hello.' 

Manwe stared at him, but it was about effective as staring at a rock. Ecthelion nonchalantly blew on his tea. Cirdan would have to refine his tea making technique if he was to entertain any more guests than his rather empty house already contained. Looking up again, Ecthelion offered Manwe a breadstick from the table. 

'What are you doing here, my lord?' 

The Lord of Arda stared at the breadstick as if it were contaminated before cautiously taking it and biting. Ecthelion shrugged and resumed his study of tea leaves. Manwe, now more than slightly ruffled at the lack of response from his "loyal subject", answered the question haughtily. 

'Ulmo, my brother, has asked me to commit a favour, to finish the second part of your journey.' 

The cup nearly sloshed all its contents onto the floor as Ecthelion's hand shook. Face paling horribly, he stuttered, 

'S.. second part?' 

'They do not call me the Lord of Breath for nothing...' 

One could probably have heard Ecthelion scream from Hollin.   



	34. Galion the Brave

::Galion the Brave:: 

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, sadly... 

A/N: I know, I know... *grumbles* So real life is a real pain in the ass, bite me... 

* 

Galion, butler to Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, was a brave elf. He faced many things that a Mirkwood elf did not face on a daily basis, fearful things, for example empty wine barrels (oh, perish the thought), many empty wine barrels (quiver at the thought, friends...) and of course, the less evil things such as dwarves in the cellars, hobbits in the stores and the occasional dragon trying to burn the entire forest down. 

Yes, Galion was a very brave man. But some things just do not go down with any elf's appetite, no matter how brave he might be. This was one occasion. 

It had started off a fairly normal day, peaceful as could be accepted in the times. An hour before dawn he woke the King, helped to get Thranduil dressed and dished out the varying piles of paperwork for the ruler to see to, after which he disappeared to go around the caves. The evil times had caused Greenwood to wither to the point of being known as Mirkwood, and it came with its consequences. Dol Guldur festered in the east, bringing them all sorts of rather pesky problems, namely spiders, orcs, goblins, wargs, trolls and the ilk. Not very pleasant company, but by then Galion was used to seeing members of the Mirkwood guard stumble back with bits of various creatures still stuck to them. 

Kicking a bit of warg pelt out of his way, the butler continued his rounds. Everything was per normal. The wine was still stocked, Thranduil was in a good mood, seeing as he had just sent off the Crown Prince, nobody was dying or mortally injured and things were running smoothly. 

But just as he was about to finish, disaster struck. 

In the form of mortal children and noldor/vanyar elves. Galion could have screamed to be killed by the time the day was through... 

* 

Glorfindel stopped abruptly at a small, rather insignificant stream. Everyone else nearly crashed into him as a result, but besides that they stayed balanced enough to haul Erestor out before he touched the water. Peeved, Sara glared at the vanya/noldo/elf. 

'What was that all about.' 

Ren stopped to consider, before finally dredging up memories of "The Hobbit". 

'Oh,' she said, 'can we push you in just to find out?' 

Sara looked at the waters and edged away slowly. Glorfindel sighed wearily. Three days of little to no sunlight, terrified mortal children, giant spiders that almost approached them, grumpy advisors and really, really bad Quenya was starting to wear on him. This also included the facts that he had nothing but almost stagnant water and dry lembas for days upon days, which did not do well for ones diet or temper. Inez came close to sticking her foot in the water when Gildor pulled her back. 

'Do not touch the water.' 

Granted, it looked slightly murky, but beyond that, relatively harmless. 

'Why ever not?' 

Diana grimaced. 

'Let's just say that if you don't want a case of magically induced amnesia, you had best stick to the drain water we have in our skins.' 

Glorfindel really, really felt like committing suicide. Silei brought up a valid point. 

'There's no boat. How are we to get across?' 

With a slight startle, Ren realised that the useful little boat that had got Bombur into no small trouble was missing. Galdor withdrew a length of rope. Shu Wen turned slowly to face him. 

'You cannot be serious...' 

(Twenty Minutes Later...) 

Glorfindel and Gildor were already across, having successfully secured the rope "bridge" to a trunk on the opposite bank. Gildor and Galdor remained on the other end, keeping guard. Sara clung onto the two ropes for dear life as she inched slowly across, a la Lorien. 

'Haldir,' she muttered, 'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...' 

Haldir smirked from his position at the ropes. The water gushed underneath menacingly. 

* 

Eventually, they had managed to cross the river without anybody getting a dose of the magical waters or loosing their consciousness, so they set off again. Three days in Mirkwood, though, had set everyone on edge, and it was not just the humans who had their tempers set off after the crossing. Ren was sullen and moody, hating the feel of being closed in by the thick trees, unable to feel either heat of sun or ray of moon. It made her almost claustrophobic and paranoid. Glorfindel was tired of having to lead a bunch of wayward fools around Middle-Earth and everyone else had their own pet peeves. Sara, for one, was trying her best to _find_ a spider while Yvonne was trying her best to _stop_ Sara from getting a giant arachnid to eat them for lunch. Silei was busy cursing the world in general while Diana skulked away grouchily. Shu Wen had repeated the verse of _Earendil_ more times than Erestor could repeat _Tra La La Lally_, which drove the rest of the company insane. 

It was on the fourth day, though, that all hell finally broke loose. 

Everyone was in their own individual wonderlands, sullenly trudging along and dragging themselves pace by pace to Thranduil's forsaken hole in the ground when Sara piped up. 

'I think I feel a breeze.' 

Erestor snorted in disdain. 

'We are hours from the nearest break in the forest yet. You must be dreaming. We're virtually trapped under this...' he made vague gestures with his hands, 'arboreal verdance.' 

Inez looked up from her Revolutions theories. 

'No, wait. I feel it too.' 

Glorfindel looked up. 

'It feels as if it were coming from above.' 

His brow furrowed slightly for a moment before his eyes widened. 

'I feel someone here. There is a presence amongst us. It feels like... Manwë?' 

No sooner had the reborn elf spoken when there was a slight crashing sound from the branches above and the unmistakable sound of a highly amused vala and an extremely distressed elf. Moments later, the presence fled, and all that was left was the Highly Distressed Elf, otherwise known as Ecthelion of the Fountain, hanging off a tree branch above their heads. 

Glorfindel stared, not really believing his eyes. Ecthelion would have stared, too, if he had not been so preoccupied in trying to save his life. 

By the time he got down, mayhem had broken out. Glorfindel was almost crying, though no one could really tell if it were out of joy, relief, delirium, stress or just plain frustration. Ecthelion was hanging onto the detached tree branch for dear life, murmuring something about "Now I know why I rebelled against the valar" and shutting his eyes tightly. Diana started cursing in German, and she and Ren went off to read "Peoples of Middle Earth" to see what they could find out about the elf who killed Gothmog. 

Everyone else just stood around looking confused. 

This continued for some time until Haldir had the brilliant idea that _moving_ might actually benefit them more than standing around in a middle of a forest infested with evil. 

The Company plodded on, one new member in tow. 

* 

'And what happened after Turgon got changed into a rabbit...?' 

'You see, Fingolfin went off to plead with Yvanna, but...' 

At first it was rather amusing to learn about what was happening in the Blessed Realm. Then it got redundant. Then it got trivial. Now it was utterly mind numbing. Evidently, Glorfindel and Ecthelion were blissfully trying to catch up on the 6000 years or so they had spent apart in a day. The rest of the company felt like throttling them. 

As a result, various distractions to save them from insanity came to light. 

Erestor and Shu Wen were in a competition. The advisor, driven almost to delirious madness, was going "_Tralalalalalalally_" with various shifting verses of the old song that they had sung during Bilbo's first stay at Imladris, competing furiously with Shu Wen's "_Earendil was a mariner that tarried in the Arvernien"_. The two were neck and neck, going faster and faster, glaring each other as they went. 

Gildor and Sara were engaged in a lively conversation of the most creative way to possibly asphyxiate the First-Age elves in front of them. Gildor was in the lead with his suggestion of stuffing a spider leg down Glorfindel's throat and lighting it like a candle, but Sara had quickly retaliated with the idea of throwing them both into the Magic River with their armour on. 

Ren, Diana and Silei were repeating Galadriel's opening lines in the movie just for the fun of it, trying to drown everyone else out with the sound of Sindarin. As a result, there were many outbursts of 'I AMAR! PRESTA! AEN!' [The world is changed] and of course, "**Han mathon na NEN! Han mathon na CHAE!**_ **A han nostron ned i GWILITH!**_' [I feel it in the water, I feel it in the earth, I smell it in the air] coming from the trio until they burst out laughing and started anew, getting louder each time and causing everyone else to increase their tone of voice.****

Inez and Galdor were playing scissors, paper, stone (or rock, paper, scissors, depending on where you are from). The tally was Galdor 203, Inez 202. Yvonne went around, tugging various people's hair while shrieking at intervals of rare silence. Haldir, driven into delirium, went around repeating the word "Laurelindorenan" over and over again. 

And this was how Galion found some of the oldest and most respected members of elven society. 

All he had been doing was innocently checking the magic gates of Thranduil's realm when, up from the path, came a bunch of clearly mental elves and mortals. The blond and the silver haired eldar in the front were busy talking so quickly in Quenya it boggled the mind, while the raven haired noldor and a young, short haired human child were trying to scream their lungs out in a vain attempt of jumbling as many words together as quickly as possible. Behind then came a pair of kinslaying madmen, and behind them still three humans attempting to "smell the air". Haldir o Lorien was grinning disconcertingly, and Galdor and some other child were poking each other with their fingers. And everyone had messy hair. 

There are some things in life that butlers just should not have to face... 


	35. In The Waiting Room

::Valar-Planned Consequences:: 

Disclaimer: I bow to Tolkien, worship Tolkien, and probably make Tolkien turn in his grave. 

A/N: Haha! _Another_ update! Doesn't the world just _love_ weekends? Oh, some necessary background information for those who have not read the Silmarillion: Beleg Cuthalion basically was one of the greatest archers in all Elvendom. He, obviously, loves his bow. He served under the husband-wife team of Thingol and Melian (a maia) a looong time ago in a place called Doriath. Mablung, a fellow Doriath-elf, was killed by a bunch of dwarves storming Mengroth (the capital of Doriath) while defending the treasury that guarded the necklace, , that held a Silmaril. Thingol and Melian were by then, understandably, dead. Anglachel is a cursed sword that Eol made from metal that fell from the stars (no kidding). It can cleave through all earthly metals. Still cursed, though... 

* 

The Fëanorians, father, sons and all, were finally in a state that could be commended as "workable", "functional" and somewhat "sane". Fëanor himself had, at last, managed to walk away from his stick throwing episode without attempting to hurl rocks at his sons. Maedhros realized that having two hands was not exactly the greatest miracle, and Maglor stopped practising scales. Celegorm had decided that grooming oneself was not the most modest of activities, and Curufin had broken his "ship", and thus could not continue plotting ways to float over to the mainland. Amrod and Amras had stopped trying to confuse everyone else, and Caranthir spoke twice in the past three hours, denoting that he had broken out of his trance of self pity. 

To think that these eight elves were once feared throughout Middle Earth. 

But then again, six thousand years of imprisonment in a devoid, black, endless, timeless, bodiless hall does that to some people. 

The raiding had begun. 

* 

Beleg was frantic. Thingol was not amused. The area of Valinor that encompassed the Doriathian elves was in a massive state of disarray. Or rather, the royal house was. 

'It's _gone_!' 

Melian buried her face in her hands and tried not to scream at the archer. 

'Beleg, it is just a bow-' 

'Just a bow?! Just a _bow?!_ Excuse me, my lady, but it is not just a _bow_! I am called Cuthalion for a reason!' 

Thingol tried to prevent himself from rising and throttling his captain. Beleg was throwing all manner of things about the area, hair brushes, robes, perfume bottles, and, alarmingly enough, the occasional arrow. But his bow was nowhere to be found. Melian tried reasoning with the hysterical elf. 

'Beleg, you live in Valinor. There are no things to kill, and there are no things to die under. You don't _need_ your bow.' 

Beleg was beyond reasoning, though. At last, the tall elf sat down on the edge of a couch that was swamped under a myriad of strange items (for example, a elf that just happened to pass by and was unfortunately drilled by the unbalanced Sindarin elf) and started rocking back and forth. 

'My bow... My bow...' 

As Melian went forward to comfort him, a shriek, too deep to be a woman's, rang through the halls, shattering a number of windows, and the sound of hasty footsteps was heard. 

'NonoNO!' 

Three seconds later, the door flew open, and before anyone could comprehend what was going on, Mablung jumped into the room, closed, locked, bolted and chained the door (although there was neither chain nor bolt) and dove under the whimpering pile on the couch that was Beleg. Bewildered, Thingol bent down and poked the quivering mass of elf that was Mablung of the Heavy Hand. The mass yelped and tried to burrow further into the recesses of the tiny space beneath the piece of furniture. Thingol was daring enough to ask, 

'Mablung...? What is the matter?' 

There was a brief, muffled noise that sounded oddly like "muffudedu! Emuff! Mmmphh!", which mad no sense whatsoever to the former ruler of Doriath. Seeing as there was no other option, Thingol bent down and bodily dragged Mablung up by his robes and deposited him next to Beleg. Shaking the elf's shoulders violently, the king forced Mablung to look him in the eye. 

'What is it, Mablung?' 

Mablung took a deep, calming breath and replied.' 

'Fëanorians... They were looking for the Silmaril...' 

There the elf sniffed deeply. Thingol thought incredulously to himself, _was that a *tear*?___

'They... *sniff* nearly *sniff* attacked me until I ran away. Oh, Eru, it was almost like... Almost like...' 

Mablung nearly burst out into tears, saved only by another violent shake from Thingol. 

'Almost like the time that dwarf killed me for that damned necklace... They... were.... *sniff* carrying... things. A bow. Looked like Beleg's. And a black sword, amongst other things... And they were laughing. Oh, sire, they were _laughing!_ And Maedhros had two hands again, and Maglor was singing, and...' 

Thingol did not hear the rest. He was too busy making friends with his carpet as he slumped, unconscious, to the floor. Beleg started crying all over again, and it was the best that Melian could do to calm Mablung down and tell him that short, bearded humanoid creatures, otherwise known as dwarves, would not come charging in to castrate him. 

But in other parts of Valinor... 

'It's _gone_!' 

There was a rather un-kingly exclamation from the backroom of the Museum of Valinor, manned by Ereinion Gil-Galad, former High-King of the Noldor in Middle-Earth, He-who-got-crushed-by-Sauron-upon-Orodruin, the Mighty, the Star, the Valiant, the Honoured, the Courageous, the Brave, the... Well, you get my point. And he was tearing his hair out. Fingon, his father, poked his head into the room curiously. 

'What is gone?' 

'_It!_' 

'What?' 

'Anglachel!' 

The cursed sword of Turin Turambar, able to cleave through iron, steel, metal, metal in general, almost any metal, and earth-welded metal, had been stolen. There was a quiet, _oh Elbereth_, and the sound of Elvish cursing, before the two noldor sprang into action, charging out of the museum and sprinting to Taniquetil as fast as their legs could carry them. 

In other parts of Valinor, once again, however, Curufin was happily testing the blade of his new sword, and Caranthir was merrily stringing and unstringing a mighty looking bow. Fëanor only wore a smug smile on his face as the eight elves moved onwards to plunder Valinor, and Aman, too. If Maglor would only _stop_ singing that damnable lay about Maedhros and himself... 

* 

Galion felt rather depressed. He was in the waiting room with the lot of madmen that had walked up the path and into Mirkwood, and they were not helping his almost frayed nerves. 

Allow me to provide you with an insight to the conversation that was being held inside: 

Glorfindel and Ecthelion: 

'Yavanna thought that Turgon looked rather cute, and even gave him a jewelled collar...' 

'And what are the rest of the captains doing about this?' 

'Not much. The last I heard, Egalmoth was feeding him a carrot...' 

* 

Sara and Gildor: 

'I believe that ale would work better. In large quantities, they would black out sooner.' 

''Tis not _strong_ enough! We should use _miruvor_. That would set them off.' 

'Where are we to find _miruvor_ by the _barrelful?_' 

'Well, Mirkwood *is* renowned for its cellars...' 

* 

Inez and Galdor: 

'Scissors beats paper!' 

'But rock beats scissors!' 

'Ah _ha_! Paper wallops rock!' 

'And scissors emulsifies paper!' 

'Thus rock disintegrates scissors!' 

'But paper shall...' 

* 

Ren, Silei and Diana: 

'Ai Elbereth! Gilthoniel!' 

'Silivern penna miriel!' 

'Oh, let's do this one...' 

'Which one? Galadriel's _Lament_ would do well...' 

'Too much Quenya. Say it too quickly and it reminds me of a drunk Erestor.' 

'You've seen Erestor drunk?' 

'That night on Caradhras. When no one was looking, he downed the bottle of _miruvor_ that Elrond gave him.' 

'Whatever for?' 

'I cannot imagine...' 

* 

Erestor and Shu Wen: 

'TralalalalalaLALLY!   
O! Will you be staying,   
Or will you be flying?   
Your ponies are straying!   
The daylight is dying!   
To fly would be folly,   
To stay would be jolly   
And listen and hark   
Till the end of the dark   
to our tune   
ha! ha!' 

'From gnashing of the Narrow Ice,   
Where shadows lie on frozen hills,   
From nether heats and burning waste,   
He turned in haste, and roving still,   
On starless waters far astray,   
At last he came to Night of Naught...' 

'O! What are you seeking,   
And where are you making?   
The faggots are reeking,   
The bannocks are baking!   
O! tril-lil-lil-lolly   
the valley is jolly,   
ha! ha!' 

'Then over Middle-Earth he passed,   
And heard at last the weeping sore   
Of women and of Elven maids,   
In Elder Days, in years of yore,   
But on him mighty doom was laid,   
Till moon shall fade, an orbed star-' 

'O! What are you doing,   
And where are you going?   
Your ponies need shoeing!   
The river is flowing!   
O! tra-la-la-lally   
here down in the valley!' 

* 

Yvonne and Haldir: 

'Laurelindorenan!' 

'No, you silly pointy-ear! That is a brand of shampoo!' 

'What is "shampoo"?' 

'What is "Laurelindorenan"?' 

'And stop calling me pointy-ear!' 

'So stop calling me short!' 

'You are short!' 

'You are pointy eared!' 

* 

Galion whimpered. He moved to Thranduil's office. Almost timidly, he knocked on the door and entered. Composing himself, he bowed. 

'A company is waiting for you in the waiting room, my lord.' 

Thranduil looked up from his paperwork, daisies sitting in his hair. 

'What company?' 

'Lords Glorfindel, Ecthelion, Erestor, Haldir, Gildor and Galdor, my lord. And several young mortals.' 

'What on Arda? What are they doing here?' 

'Well, for one, Erestor is singing, Haldir is trying to grasp the concept of the word "Laurelindorenan", Glorfindel and Ecthelion are gossiping, Gildor is trying to kill them, Galdor is playing "rock, paper, scissors" with one of the mortals and the rest of the humans are alternating between the most terrible dialect of Sindarin and Quenya, almost unintelligible, my lord, that I've ever heard. They say that want to speak with you.' 

'Erestor is _singing_?' 


	36. Interlude: With Dorwinion

::Interlude: With Dorwinion:: 

Disclaimer: Not mine. 

A/N: EXAMMMMMMMMMMMMS ARE OVERRRRRRR! This chapter: All filler, no, er, non-filler. 

* 

Thranduil looked at Yvonne. Yvonne looked at Thranduil. There were spider webs in her hair. 

'Squee.' 

Thranduil looked at Glorfindel. Glorfindel looked at Thranduil. Glorfindel hair shone. Like those gems he had in the treasury. Ooh. Shiney. 

'Hello.' 

Thranduil looked at Inez. Inez looked at Thranduil. Inez had a glazed over look in her eyes that signified the need for CureInsomnia! water. 

'Yo.' 

Thranduil looked at Gildor. Gildor looked at Thranduil. Gildor was grinning in a disconcerting manner. 

'Good day.' 

Thranduil looked at Shu Wen. Shu Wen looked at Thranduil. Shu Wen blinked owlishly. 

''Lo.' 

Thranduil looked at Erestor. Erestor looked at Thranduil. Erestor was not wearing black. Horrors. 

'Mae govannen.' 

Thranduil looked at Ren. Ren looked at Thranduil. There was a dead look in her eyes that suggested the need for a riverful of CureInsomnia! 

'Yes?' 

Thranduil looked at Galdor. Galdor looked at Thranduil. Galdor seemed to think that the wall next to the King was Thranduil, instead. 

'Well met.' 

Thranduil looked at Diana. Diana looked at Thranduil. She glared. 

'What?' 

Thranduil looked at Ecthelion. Ecthelion looked back at Thranduil. He glared. 

'...' 

Nevermind. 

Thranduil looked at Sara. Sara looked at Thranduil. Sara clutched something that looked oddly like a bottle of green dye. 

'What are you looking at?' 

Thranduil stared at them. They stared back. Most of them were staring at his crown. Thranduil wondered why they were staring at his crown. Thranduil thought his crown looked pretty. 

Thranduil blinked. A daisy fell off his head. 

'Greetings...?' 

* 

'No offence, Thranduil, but really. After 1000 years, your wood does tend to get a little...' 

'Infested...' 

'With spiders, orcs, goblins, wargs...' 

'Barrow-wights...' 

'Barrow-wi- _Barrow-wights?!_' 

Thranduil blinked. He felt like blinking a lot that day. He had this odd impression that his daisies were wilting and needed to be changed. Erestor continued. 

'So you see, we were trying to work our way through your wood, but the path has been horribly overgrown...' 

'And there were spiders...' 

'And you must understand, it is not everyday a Noldo lord falls on top of you.' 

'Literally.' 

'Vertically.' 

Ecthelion flashed Thranduil a lazy grin. Glorfindel picked up where Erestor ended off. 

'And we had just got news that Feanor and his sons are back on Arda and wreaking havoc...' 

Glorfindel was smiling, as if remembering something. 

'I never did like Caranthir, anyhow...' 

Thranduil blinked again. His daisies were definitely wilting. He might want to use daffodils next year. He looked at the group in front of him. 

'Why are you all here?' 

Three human children looked at him, slightly puzzled. One with short hair spoke up. 

'Oh? We did not tell you? The silmarils, of course.' 

Thranduil fainted when he saw three sparkling gems emerge from the depths of the group's bags. 

* 

Five minutes later... 

* 

Gildor frowned as he sipped on a glass of Dorwinion that he had found on Thranduil's desk and played cards with the rest of the group. They were arranged in a disfigured circle, with various glasses of Dorwinion and large amounts of sugar present. 

'That was most unusual of Thranduil, do you not think?' 

Glorfindel made an affirmative sound as he played an ace of spades. There was bits of muffled cursing and several tokens were thrown onto the table: A spare leaf of Lembas, a shiney pebble and a quarter bottle of miruvor. Erestor played a trump card and shrugged, taking a sip from his own glass. 

'It was most undiplomatic of him to faint and all... After being a king for so long you would think that he would be familiar with Doom related objects entering his realm. Eru knows Elrond is.' 

Ren placed a horrible card on the desk and bit her lip as she watched her earnings being dragged away by a smug Glorfindel. 

'Well, Elrond _has_ had generations of Last-of-Isildurs' come into his house... He has held Narsil and the Sceptre for thousands of years... It is a little unfair to judge Thranduil by him... I mean, Thranduil's father is not a star, nor his mother a gull, and his brother is not a mortal. A dead mortal.' 

Sara ate a handful of those tiny confectioneries made up of mainly sugar and glucose that waiting rooms often provided and threw down a king of spades. Glorfindel grudgingly threw out a vial of CureInsomnia! (Pilfered off the River). The human giggled, a side effect of the dangerous substance now coursing through her veins. 

'Galadriel *giggle* did not *gigglehack* pass out when *giggle* we went to *giggle* Lothelorietheian... Or Lothlooorian... Or was it Lorien? Or Lorian? Or... nevermind.' 

Diana agreed, stealing some sugar from her friend as she lost miserably. The silmaril lay on the table, safe from rabid spiders, rabid elves, and most importantly, rabid humans. 

'Well, she did have prior warning... Elrond was that considerate. And Feanor chased after her hair for so long that it must have been somewhat natural to realize that he came back for something... Hm.. Do you think that Glorfindull's, er, Glarfunkel, er, Garfunkle's hair would substitute?' 

'Isn't Garfunkel some kind of singer?' 

'Who knows?' 

Ignoring them, Ecthelion threw down a winning card nonchalantly and drowned his glass in victory. The world was beginning to spin a bit, but the Gondolin lord ignored it and spewed forth certain phrases that had best not been muttered under the eaves of Mirkwood. 

'Thranduil's father was an awful prude in Mandos. Kept going on about Greenwood and his many titles. A pain in the eternal neck, if you ask me.' 

Glorfindel started laughing, as if that had been the most amusing statement he had heard in quite some time. Then he pointed to a pair of sugar cubes and proclaimed, 

'The cards are dancing, look!' 

Erestor squinted slightly at the spoon that was next to the cubes. 

'They will not stop moving. Get them to stop!' 

Sara laughed rabidly and ate the sugar cubes. Diana was trying to get a card to move with her eyes, but everything was beginning to blur. Shu Wen, pouring a teaspoon of sugar meant for tea down her throat, grinned. 

'Lookit all the pretty colours!' 

Gildor was stoning at the wall, a picture of bliss painted on his face. Yvonne was on the ground, gibbering slightly and making several twitching spasmodic movements that signified her as "alive". Ecthelion was making shadow creatures on the wall, muttering about "Yvanna", "Turgon" and something about "Must make rabbit...". 

The bottle of Dorwinion lay forgotten on the floor, alongside two empty jars of sugar. 

* 

At the same time, in a office labelled "PSYCHIATRIC HELP", Thranduil lay on a leather couch, talking to an elf with a parchment and a bored look on his face... 

* 

'And then Glorfindel came up and he was talking about Turgon being changed into a rabbit! A rabbit! The Lord of Gondolin, A RABBIT!' 

'Yes, yes, my lord, of course. Do continue.' 

There was the sound of notes being taken: 

_Patient is convinced that deceased elves turn into furry creatures (rabbits).___

'Ecthelion was talking about Yvanna and a jewelled collar! For Turgon!' 

'Most interesting... Yes, sire...' 

_Patient believes that said deceased elves wear jewelled collars gifted to them by Valie.___

'And then Erestor is singing "Tralalalally", with this mortal child talking about Earendil!' 

'Mmhmm...' 

_Patient thinks that Advisor of Imladris sings tavern songs with human adolescent who knows about Elrond's father.___

'Gildor was talking to another human about killing Glorfindel and Ecthelion!' 

'Of course, my lord.' 

_Patient instigating Fourth Kinslaying with imagination. Humans again evident.___

'And Galdor was playing "rock, paper, scissors" with another human!' 

_Patient wants to relive childhood days of idiocy. With humans.___

'There were HUMANS SINGING THE PRAISE FOR ELBERETH!' 

_Patient thinks that humans grow off trees.___

'Anything else, my lord?' 

'No, no. Thank you, you have helped me take a load off my chest...' 

'Of course, my lord. Now, take these pills thrice a day, with a glassful of _miruvor_ daily.' 

'Thank you.' 

_Diagnosis:___

_Patient suffering from Human Fetish.___

_Patient suffering from acute schizophrenia.___

_Patient suffering from Noldor-atitis.___

_Patient in need of mental rehabilitation.___

_Patient might be potentially dangerous around objects that shine, glint, have sharp edges or are capable of poking people's eyes out.___

_Said objects include: Fingernails, hooks, quills, brooches, gems, swords, knives, daggers, arrows, bolts, claws and forks.___

_Recommended Prescription:___

_200 ml alcohol per day.___

_Kept under intensive care.___

_Precautions necessary:___

_Do not allow patient to play with daisies in fear for Mirkwood's fashion sense.___

_Beware Patient's possible influence in getting doctor's head cut off.___

_Tread carefully.___

_Avoid Patient when Patient discovers laxatives in medication._   



	37. The Temptation of the Silmaril

::The Temptation of the R-Er, Silmaril:: 

Disclaimer: All Tolkien's, none mine. 

A/N: I am awfully sorry for this long, long wait, but the Muse fled on many wings due to the Return of the King anxieties and now that I have it over and done with, and liked it, I am feeling much better. Save for the fact that Glorfindel _still_ does not appear, but that is inconsequential. Anyhow, here is another chapter of Time, and do drop a review. Feed the Glorfindel. It will ease your aching conscience. *laughs* 

* 

Ren sat in her room, idly reading a chapter off the Return of the King. She wondered if things had changed back home. She wondered what she had missed, or if time had stayed still. Time, sigh sighed. All she had was time, and all her time was running out. She looked down at her text in dismal moods, and read the first line that came to her sight: 

_'Earnur now rode back, but Glorfindel, looking into the gathering dark, said: "Do not pursue him! He will no return to this land. Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of man will he fall." These words many remembered; but Earnur was angry, desiring only to be avenged for his disgrace.'___

Ren paused. 

'Not by the hand of man,' she said softly to herself. 'But of course by the hands of a woman.' 

She sighed. She was not made for this. Was not made for traipsing off her own dimension and time and reality to come crashing down into Middle-Earth during a period of war and deceit, where no one could trust and no one was trusted save a few who were in fellowship. The gathering darkness could be seen from all angles, and even here in the middle of Mirkwood, it could be felt. Dol Guldur in the south festered by each day, spewing forth all manners of those evil and beyond redemption. And far to the east, Gondor lay, and farther than that, Mordor. Ren shut her book with a deep sigh. She was not meant to affect worlds. She wondered if the Fellowship were as they were meant to be, if Boromir was truly dead, if Frodo had reached Cirith Ungol, or if Osgiliath had fallen. 

'Thirteen months,' she muttered darkly. 'Thirteen months. And I am not one to change any of it.' 

Could a cut bowstring matter? Could any of the fallacies that she and her friends have committed mattered, in the long run? 

Ren did not know. She hung her head and turned to the east. Maybe she did not want to know. 

The silmaril lay on her bedside table, still wrapped tightly in cloth and leather thongs. The human took a deep breath. 

'And Varda hallowed the Silmarils, so that thereafter no mortal flesh, nor hands unclean, nor anything of evil will might touch them, but it was scorched and withered; and Mandos foretold that the fates of Arda, earth, sea, and air, lay locked within them. The heart of Fëanor was fast bound to these things that he himself had made.' 

The cloth bundle did not move. Trust it to ruin a cinematographic moment, but Ren at least comforted herself that it did not Mary-Sue-anize her in a fit of evil/good glee. With unsteady, but not trembling hands she unwrapped the oilskin cloth and looked at the jewel. 

The silmaril was not made to be an innocuous thing. It was made to be taken notice of, to be beheld and worshipped. It was a thing of great beauty, and of great peril. 

'Just like the Ring,' Ren said to nothing, as she resisted the urge to run her fingers along the lines and cuts of the great jewel. 'And I am not the only one to hold, and bear, this burden.' Her hand reached out. A touch would not hurt. She was not evil, or tainted. Just one touch. 

And it burned. It burned like no other wound on earth, or Middle Earth for that matter, could possibly burn. Ren retracted her fingers with a yelp. She berated herself. 

'I am not an elf, and neither will I become one. A life eternal is not a prospect I would look forward to, anyhow,' she said, her face scrunching up at the very thought. 'No,' she repeated to thin air, 'not for me.' 

Carefully, Ren packed the Silmaril up and retied its bonds. A voice from the door startled her to the point of almost dropping it. Ecthelion leaned in the doorway, emulating Glorfindel in a manner that made Ren want to twitch uncomfortably. 

'Breathtaking, isn't it?' the tall elf said, making a short but graceful inclination of his head towards the jewel. Ren swallowed and nodded. Ecthelion stepped into the room without invitation. 

'It has done more than a little hurt over the years,' he continued, a Quenyan accent coming into the unfamiliar, unpractised Westron words. 

'That could be seen as a gross understatement,' Ren replied weakly. She was not used to elves coming into her room to talk about world-shaping jewels. Ecthelion shrugged. 

'Perhaps. But then again we are all temptation's fools.' 

And then he was gone. 

Ren shook her head. 

'I am not made for this.' 

* 

'She has her many vices,' Ecthelion declared as he walked into the large chamber that he shared with Glorfindel. 'They all do.' 

Glorfindel leaned back in his chair, nodding absently. 'Some, their arrogance, others, they ignorance. Most, their lack of courage.' 

'If not all,' Ecthelion cut in. 

'If not all,' Glorfindel agreed. 'They are young and foolish and headstrong,' he countered. 'Aurë i lómë.' [The day is passing.] 

Ecthelion lifted his eyes from a elvish scripture he was looking at to glance at his friend. 

'You speak gravely. It is not like you.' 

'No,' Glorfindel admitted with a wry smile, 'I suppose not. But then, we are all cursed.' 

'Now you sound downright pessimistic.' 

The blond elf tucked a strand of hair behind his ears, a thoughtful look on his face. 

'Maybe so,' he replied slowly, 'But foresight is a gift not easily interpreted.' 

Ecthelion turned sharply, shutting the scripture with a quiet thud. 

'You see things once more?' 

Glorfindel shrugged in an almost offhanded manner. 

'More clearly than I did in the past. Years around Mithrandir do have their effect, you know.' 

'Then why aren't you smoking weed and poking your nose into all affairs?' 

'I do not hold an affinity to pipes and my nose is _not_ as long as Mithrandir's.' 

Ecthelion guffawed slightly at the joke, but waved his hand in the air to return to the point. 

'What is it that bothers you?' 

'A flash of insight, you could call it. How can children handle these tasks? What happens when we reach Valinor? What happens when we place the weight of the death of those immortal in _their_ hands?' 

Ecthelion fell silent. 

'Perhaps as children, their insight is more valuable than those who live a lifetime.' 

'Our gaze is not narrowed by the chains of mortality.' 

'Yet we are not freed from the path of eternity.' 

The two elves fell silent, and they spoke no more. 

* 

Thranduil had taken his medicine, and he felt somewhat better. Nevermind that he had been to the lavatory sixteen times in a row, that was inconsequential. He felt better, regardless of his churning stomach, and he had taken a bath and done other kingly, opulent things in the three hour grace period that he had set down. He had pestered the palace gardeners to give him daffodils instead of daisies, and they had not wilted. Thranduil even managed to pass a bottle of wine, disregarding it in favour of assessing the situation with a clear mind. 

The room was filled with expectant people. Humans and elves. Humans and _noldor_ elves. Those crazy elves who slept in _rooms with barely any doors! And on the _ground_, no less! _This was a nightmare, and this nightmare was all contained in the little shell of his living room. 

'You want my _counsel_,' Thranduil asked slowly, deliberately drawing out the syllables in an attempt to sound remotely like Elrond as he rolled the last word over and under his tongue. Diana barely stifled a giggle, but Thranduil assumed it was a cough. Need not puncture his newly stitched ego. 

'Yes, my lord,' Ecthelion replied before Glorfindel had a chance to curb his sharp, almost anti-diplomatic sarcasm. 'We want your COunSEEEEL.' 

Erestor coughed none-too-subtly, making a motion at Ecthelion to Glorfindel and smoothly cutting into the negotiations like the chief advisor he was. 

'My lord Thranduil, he come to you for want of your say in things. We have already sought the views of both my lord Elrond Peredhel in Imladris and her lady Galadriel, Lady of Light, She Of the Mirror With Christmas Lights in Her Eyes, Etcetra, etcetra, of 'Lorien. Now we come to seek yours.' 

'What part of my COUnSEllLL do you seek?' Thranduil threw back, not put off by Ecthelion's tongue-twisting interpretation of the word. Gildor erred on the side of caution and stepped in. 

'We have with us the three Silmarilli,' the poor elf started, but never got to finish as Thranduil started suddenly, a daffodil falling into his eyes as it fell from his crown. The king fell into his native speech and replied. 

'Edaved-im, Gildor, le pedo...? _Silmaril?!_' [Excuse me, Gildor, you say...?] 

'Yes, my lord,' Gildor calmly proceed, in Westron for the sake of the humans, 'We want your counsel. We need it.' 

'We know not whether it is wise to bring them across the shores to Valinor,' Glorfindel said, 'For it would arise only another Kinslaying, like those long ago.' 

There was clear pain on the faces of the older elves in the room. Alqualonde, the burning of the ships as Losgar, the once-haven of Sirion. 

Erestor shifted uncomfortably. 

'We are not sure whether what we are doing is _right_, my lord. In fact... We are not sure of what we are to do at all.'   



	38. Understanding the Unstated

::Get Rid of It:: 

Disclaimer: Blahblah, the usual. 

A/N: Damn, but it is getting harder to write now with so little time. Ooh. Bad!pun! 

* 

There was a definite stillness in the room at that statement. Of course, the Company had long given into the fact that, yes, they had no idea on this side of Endore just _how_ to get rid of the Silmaril, but actually hearing it being admitted struck new fear into them. They were lost: never in the history of either Men or Elves had something so obscure, so barely believable been construed. How the work of _children_ were meant to be saving graces was an ever greater challenge: how could thirteen years of sedentary life compare with thousands of years of knowledge and experience? They had three Jewels of most dangerous priority, and they traipsing through an endless amount of crazed notions concerning the, hmm, Fate of Arda. 

'Well,' Thranduil said shortly, beginning to feel that even his daffodil was wilting. There was a short silence as all present stared at him. 'Well,' he reiterated slowly, attempting to salvage what remained of his thoughts into a serviceable teepee for his brain to hide in and whimper. 'Well,' he said for the third time. The daffodil really did feel like it was wilting. 

'Well,' the Company echoed back at him from across the table. 

'Well,' Thranduil drawled, clearing his throat uncomfortably. 'Well, why are you asking that of a Sinda?' 

Pause. 

'Well,' Erestor said, suddenly very uncomfortable with the entire situation. 

'_Well_,' Ecthelion countered, obviously putting much more meaning behind the syllable. 

'Well,' Glorfindel tried to reason, but no words emerged. 

'Well...' Ren grasped at straws, and came up empty handed. 

Sara saved them all. 

'Well, we don't exactly have the brightest of ideas on what to do next, yes?' 

Pause. 

'Well,' the entire room chorused. 

From the door, Galion resisted the urge to rub his temples. This was turning out to be a long day. 

* 

Far Across The Sea... 

It could be interpreted as an obsession. There was no life in them anymore, only a endless jealously, a desire. No level of motivation could equal this fervour, this death in undeath. No hands could unmake this, no mind could unravel it. It was desire, an unquenchable need, lust, want. Countless years had passed, and never had this desire faded for Feanor, never had it lessened or grew cold in its intensity. It was an obsession. 

But Maglor. Maglor and Maedhros had changed. They seemed, to his eyes, different. His two most glorious, most praised of sons: Maedhros, he who took after his father in the heat of blood, and Maglor, he whose voice wove illusions around those already disillusioned by the vanity of life. But they had changed. The notes that Maglor sang, the notes were more sombre, and had lost the determined focus of days long ago. And Maedhros: the fire had quelled even Maedhros himself. There was black flame in his eyes, a flame chill to feel, and devoid of the burning charisma that Feanor had long appreciated. 

'Adar,' Maedhros had said softly to him. 'Adar, let us be rid of this burden. Let it rest.' 

Maglor had sat in a corner, eyes gleaming, but had left words unsaid. Feanor was not sure how to act on this. This hesitance, this lack of loyalty... How was it to be viewed? How was it to be reprimanded, corrected, made right? 

'Maitimo,' he had replied firmly, and Maedhros had flinched. 'Maitimo, I cannot let go of this. You cannot let go of this. This is what we have worked hard for. It is our right. Ours.' 

_Ours_. The words seem to reflect, hollow in the face of his son. 

'_Adar_,' he had repeated, as low as a whisper and as brief as a passing zephyr of wind. 'You are _our_ Adar.' 

Maglor had left, as if too entrenched by the emotions Feanor had seen passing across his face. 

'You are our _Adar_, and we trust you.' 

And Maedhros had left. 

* 

Back in Mirkwood... 

'They are mortals,' Thranduil said finally, after the silence had begun to gnaw on their nerves. 'They are mortals and they cannot pass.' 

'But Fr--' Sara started, but was immediately hushed by various members of the Company. That had not yet come to pass. Ren attempted to correct it, and threw an old example in. 

'Tuor,' she said simply. 'Tuor passed across, and was counted immortal.' 

'Tuor,' Glorfindel muttered quietly. 'Tuor was chosen, chosen and touched by the Valar themselves. That he passed was not his decision to be made, but rather a gift. A gift granted to the most extraordinary of Men.' 

'Indeed, the deeds and trials of Tuor far outmatch any of yours,' Ecthelion supported, his forthright words ringing in the children's ears. 'That he passed is incomparable to you and your friends.' 

'But we were, in a way, chosen,' Diana countered. 'We were, in a way, touched by the Valar.' 

'No chill air can emulate that of death,' Ren added on cryptically. 

'And no chill death can compare to that of which _you_ will face if your decision is wrongly made,' responded Thranduil. 'Numenor: the ways of Men, the errors of Men, the death of Men.' 

''Tis human to err,' Shu contributed. 

'But this,' Gildor said, motioning to the covered Silmarilli. 'This is not human. This is of elf-work, of elf-make, and thus it is Elven in both heritage, and in future.' 

'Then we would not be here,' Si calmly pointed out. 'Why would we end up in such a place if not to make decisions: whether right or wrong?' 

'But what decisions must you make?' Galdor murmured. There was silence. 

'If no mortal hand may touch them,' Ren intoned, 'and no living hand unmake them, then what decisions lie open to us?' 

'These Jewels,' Ecthelion muttered with a touch of hatred in his voice, 'these Jewels carry the blood of my kin, of the kin of every Elven family. They must be unmade, whether by living hands or not.' 

'These Jewels,' Gildor debated heatedly, 'these Jewels are the history of our _people_.' 

'A history perhaps better left forgotten!' Ecthelion raised his voice sharply. 'What Elf needs to remember the death and the insanity? What Elf desires to? What Elf wants to recall _slaying his own kin_, and in seeing the death of his own people the death of his own soul?' 

There was a heavy silence. 

'But,' Ren said, 'but maybe it is meant for you to remember? Maybe our choices do not lie in what to _do_ with the Silmarilli, but rather... what the Silmarilli mean.' 

'What more could it mean?' Glorfindel finally snapped. 'Your presence has revealed nothing, changed nothing in the time you have been here. If bluntly put, you have been nothing more but a thorn in our sides. Your life span is nothing to us, your memories scattered and disjointed. How can you possibly empathize with such horror and death? You have not seen such massacre as that was at any of the Five Wars: whether at the Battle of the Sudden Flame, that Battle of Unnumbered Tears or any other one remembered in the unfailing memories of elf-kind!' 

'No,' Ren said heavily, 'no we don't have your experience or your memory. But perhaps this memory is the memory the Valar want remembered: what the Silmarilli mean to your people. They have represented death and suffering for so long. Perhaps it is time you remembered that and purged the memories from your souls. The Elven lines have fought through misery and longing and want for these things: maybe the revulsion is a lesson to be learnt. Our "quest" might not be to destroy or exalt these Jewels.' 

'If the wisdom of your people has won through the ages, why must the fighting continue? If the Feanorians, and indeed if Feanor himself, are alive, isn't that _your_ duty to ensure the rallying of all people? Instead of war, why not peace. Give it to them, and let them learn the lesson that has taken your people millennia: let the Jewels destroy them, and in that let the Jewels purge them.' 

Diana's words were followed with more silence. 

'Ai Elbereth,' Ecthelion said slowly. 'Is it our fate to be blinded so by years of memory?' 


	39. Conflict of Thought

::Conflict of Thought::  
  
Disclaimer: I am so, so, _so_ very sorry, M. Tolkien. I promise to dig you a new grave if you've already rolled out of your current one. 

A/N: Less and less and LESS time to write nowadays. Thanks for the feedback from everyone! I have come so far from the beginning of this fic, read so much more of my HoMEs and become so much more attuned to actual canon. While this fic is going to be trundling along it is "La la la, I can't _hear_ you canon," line, I would _still_ like to give big hugs to everyone who's pointed out things that ought not to be have happened (and many apologies for writing them anyway). Rest assured that Time will go on. (laugh) 

- 

The awe and inspiration that the questioning provoked lasted around three seconds. A scant few moments after the silence descended, the entire room stirred itself up once more. 

'Am I right to _assume_,' Thranduil said rather pointedly, his flowers sending pollen everywhere. 'That you want _us_,' there he made a few wriggly motions with his fingers about the room, 'To _give_,' there he made _more_ wriggly motions, which, in Erestor's opinion, made his all too pale fingers look like worms. 'The _Silmarilli,_' there his fingers were getting a _definite_ workout. Maybe it had something to do with Thranduil's fatal attraction to anything that _shone_, especially that which were gold or white or translucent (read: hair, flowers, daisies, daffodils, mountains worth of Dwarf jewels, and, oh, just _maybe_ the three most infamous jewels in all history). 'To the _Feanorions?_' 

If Thranduil did that to his fingers any more, Erestor thought primly, they were going to fall off. 

And Ren and Diana, for all their insight, were not too good at either discretion _or_ subtly. 

'Well, yes?' 

Thranduil's Twitch, Glorfindel observed lazily, was nowhere near as good as Elrond's. Or maybe he was just biased, but it _did _so appear that Thranduil's eyebrows had a life of their own, going up and down _and_ horizontal like that. 

'Why would _we_ _give _the _Silmarilli _to the _Feanorions?_'   
  
Such strange inflection of words, too. 

'Because,' Ecthelion drawled from his corner, 'they would not know _what_ to do with them.' 

From all appearances, Ecthelion and Glorfindel looked at ease. They sat, side by side, casual and apparently unperturbed. Yet, as Erestor could vouch for, there were little signs, little signs of troubled thought and consideration. They were easily the two of the eldest in the room, and by far the two with the most experience. What with dying and coming back and all that. They were, quite simply, trying to make the most out of what was admittedly a ridiculous situation. Though, Erestor thought ruefully as he switched on his Diplomatic Ear (or, in more layman terms, his mood in which he listens to no one and nothing) and observed through half-lidded eyes his friend's actions and reactions, the situation was so ridiculous it did not even come across as funny anymore. 

It was, admittedly, not a _simple_ situation, no. That was clearly evident from the fact that Thranduil was getting so worked up that his flowers were _really_ beginning to fly everywhere. 

'What have we to gain,' Glorfindel finally sighed after all the mindless quarrelling had irked him to the ends of his patience, 'From quarrelling over such a thing? We do not know how the Feanorions are to react if we _do_ give them the Jewels. To be truthful, it is something that none of us have thought of thus far, and the more I think about it, the more sense it begins to make. The worst tragedies of Elvendom came across because one party or another stood in the way of Feanor and his sons.' 

There was a moment there as the history books began to flip open their pages, sending metaphorical dust everywhere. Beren and Luthien, though oversung, were both excellent examples of how the Jewels could wreak havoc: destroy an entire realm, get your arm chopped off, get your lover to go, quite literally, to "hell" and back for you, etc, etc. The Havens of Sirion were nothing more than bits of driftwood after the Feanor gang arrived, as Elrond' family tree could easily prove. Those Jewels caused the elf-lord's mother to turn into a gull, his father to turn into a star and had, amongst other things, caused his brother and he no small amount of trauma. You try crawling around a forest and _then_ encountering two sons of the person whom had completely ruined your life. 

The book slammed shut, and somewhere in Valinor, Manwe sneezed. 

Ecthelion, though still flippant and not really taking Thranduil into due consideration, was quick to take up his friend's point. 

'If we were to _give_ the Jewels across to their party, which clearly is expecting _some_ form of resistance, the situation might resolve itself for us.' 

'How?' Thranduil practically thundered. Ren and co. moved the Jewels a little farther away. 'By letting them self destruct?' 

Sometimes, Erestor observed once more, genius came from really stupid things. 

'Well,' Glorfindel muttered. 'Yes.' 

Yes, Erestor concurred, and stupidity was everywhere. 

- 

Somewhere in Valinor... 

-   


_Adar, adar, adar_... 

It echoed around in his head, a cacophony of voices that would not quiet themselves_.___

_We trust you, we trust you, we trust you_. 

What did they mean? Why had they said such things? 

Their aim was clear. Regain the Silmarilli. They had suffered through uncountable days, interminable ages for such a chance. They were to get it back, they _had_ to get it back. It was _life_ for them. They had done so many things, so, so many things to get them. They had always failed. This was their chance to try again. 

_You are _our_ adar...___

Were his own sons doubting him now? Why? It was such a simple thing. The Silmarilli were abound, that much was obvious. Why then had the Oath awoken them again, if not to let them seek out the Jewels once more? Why? 

_We trust you...___

Feanor did not understand. 

- 

'Do we trust Adar, really?' 

Maglor strummed his harp with agile fingers, some nameless tune flying across and dying, notes scattering about the air and into silence. Maedhros shrugged, fingering his new-born hands, running his fingers (such perfect fingers) one over another (such perfect fingers), unsure. His two hands seemed strange to him after surviving so long in his previous life with only one, and yet it seemed so _right_. They were there (such perfect hands), and they were functioning (such perfect hands) and they were his. Not his father's. 

Though in Maedhros' face was an echo of his father's thought, he was not Feanor himself. 

No. Not with such perfect hands. 

The notes on the floor quivered, and Maglor was quick to send them to their grave once more. 

'Do we trust _Adar_, Adar whom we know well, to do...' 

The question hung in the air like the notes that filled in around it. Maedhros shrugged again, staring at his fingers, fingers, hands. 

'Unstained hands...'


End file.
